Penance of Duty
by LdyShayna
Summary: Being a paladin was not what Yasha had expected: teleported to the Underdark, allied with drow, falling in love with a tiefling, and her best friend and main grip on reality was a kobold bard. That said enough about her situation, didn't it? Revised
1. Chapter 1 Revised

Yasha eyed the distance between her and her kobold opponent

Yasha eyed the distance between her and her kobold opponent. She had the advantage of both reach and strength, but he was very fast and quite agile. Even now he danced away from the swipe of her staff, flashing a reptilian grin at her. She blocked his counter attack, and used the momentum to follow through with a second attack of her own. It was low and slow, however, and she was unsurprised to see him hop right over it. She was barely able to counter his next attack with the butt of her weapon as he dove in under her swing. Still, he was tiring faster than she was, his narrow shoulders heaving as he panted. If she could stay conservative in her attacks and vigilant in her defense, she would be able to score a final, decisive hit on him eventually.

He knew this too, however. Determined, he redoubled his attacks, striking first to the left, and then feinting to the right. His staff was shorter and lighter, made in proportion to his smaller frame, and thus was also faster. She kept up with his flurry of attacks at first, blocking them all, and the sharp crack of their contact echoed in the empty hall. She was fighting fully defensively now, forced backwards step-by-step as he pressed his attack. Sweating, she glanced backwards briefly, unsure in this unfamiliar place if she was being driven back into one of the hall's massive support pillars, or into one of the benches that lined its shadowed walls. A moment of distraction was all he needed. He feinted left and right this time, finally diving in on her off side. A moment before the blow landed, she realized she would not get the staff back around in time to block his attack.

She yelped as his staff smacked the back of her knee. It wasn't hard enough to bring her to the floor, but it was a painful blow in a tender spot.

"Ow. OK, Deekin. Your point," she admitted, leaning down to rub her stinging leg. "What's the score now?"

Deekin gave her a pleased, sharp-toothed grin before looking thoughtful for a moment. "Deekin thinks it is five to two now, Boss. You still winning."

She nodded and shifted the grip on her staff as she straightened once more. She preferred a long sword and shield to the quarterstaff, truth be told. She was also unused to fighting with no armor, as her smarting knee would attest to. The staff worked well enough for their practice, however, and it was good for her to keep up her skill in other weapons. Besides, she was very unsure of the drows' hospitality after her rather abrupt appearance in their midst yesterday, and didn't really feel comfortable asking around for practice swords.

Deekin tilted his head at her. "You wants to go again maybe? Deekin is ready if Boss is. You still got legs up on poor little Deekin."

"Not for long if you keep hitting me like that," she responded dryly. It wasn't too far from the truth. He was more suited to casting spells and using his crossbow, but he had been traveling with her in very dangerous quests, and his skills in combat were undeniable.

Deekin turned his head sharply and peered to their left, giving her a moment's notice before a slow, methodical clap broke into their conversation. Several figures emerged from the darkness shrouding one of the hall's main doorway. Yasha blinked at them for a moment, trying to identify them as they approached, and was momentarily annoyed, as she was sure the superior eyesight of both the drow and Deekin had her at a disadvantage in the dark room. As they approached, she thought she recognized the leader of the three, though she couldn't pull his name out of the jumbled and rushed introductions from the night before. She vaguely remembered him being an important soldier in the drow House allied with her erstwhile hostess, the Seer.

"I must say I am so very impressed with our new human heroine," he said with dry sarcasm as he approached. "She's able to defeat a mighty kobold five times out of seven."

None of the approaching drow wore armor, and they appeared to be unarmed, but Yasha had fought enough drow recently to know to treat them warily, even if they were supposed allies. These, of course, were allies of allies, and she was pretty sure that meant very little in the Underdark. Besides, the hair on her arms and the back of her neck stood up as they approached and her paladin spirit sense reacted to their evil intent. Yasha and Deekin exchanged a cautious glance, and at her nod he fell back slightly as they approached.

"I'm glad you enjoyed our sparring," she replied, meeting his gaze evenly as he approached. "I do hope I haven't disrupted anything. We were just waiting for the Seer to arrive."

Her hopes that vague threats of the imminent arrival of the drow camp's leader would dissuade them were short lived. He sneered out her, then turned to his companions and made some caustic comment in the drow tongue. Yasha made a mental note to learn as much of the drow language as she could in the very near future as they dutifully laughed with him. One watched her with open glee, while the other had a more wary, but no less aggressive stance. She examined them more closely, and saw they all had a small short sword or dagger stashed unobtrusively but within easy reach.

"Care to try your skill against a true warrior?" their leader asked, drawing her eyes back to him, "Or do you only fight kobolds, or perhaps small children?"

Yasha gritted her teeth at his words. The insult had no teeth, and she knew they underestimated her or Deekin at their own peril. However, her little knowledge of drow society left her few delusions about the source of their animosity. If they saw her as weak, they saw her as prey. His challenge was not intended to be a friendly bout. While it had certainly not been HER idea to join forces with their House, she would not be the one to start any true violence if it could at all be avoided.

"You're suggesting a practice duel, then?" Hopefully her voice remained cool, but it was hard to tell. She felt pre-battle tension coil in her chest as the three drow moved casually to flank her and Deekin.

"Indeed. Something to liven up the morning and," he hesitated, and flashed a nasty grin at her, "get the blood flowing."

"Something to get the blood flowing? I've heard the drow do appreciate such things," she wryly noted. "I'm afraid we only have one staff suitable, unless you wish to borrow Deekin's."

"Keep your staff," the drow sneered. "I do not need it to defeat you."

Yasha pursed her lips and examined her apparently unarmed opponent. She smiled a bit to herself, unable to resist a bit of baiting. "You wish to fight me unarmed? I admit that I'm not familiar with drow dueling traditions, but that seems a little odd. Still, if that's what you prefer..."

Shrugging, she walked towards the center of the hall, and bowed slightly to her opponent, though it was truthfully barely more than a nod, and took up a defensive stance. He sauntered after her slowly with the wicked grin still on his face and a ruby glint in his eyes, eventually taking a position a few yards from her. His stance was relaxed, and completely open. Yasha waited warily.

"Boss!"

She sensed the movement even as Deekin cried out. She only half saw the attack, but between her journey into the Plane of Shadow and her recent battles through the Underdark, that was hardly a knew sensation. She twirled, catching the dagger of one of the dark elf's companions with her staff, and carrying the swing through to land a solid blow in the other's stomach as he came up on her other side. Even as she shifted her grip to bring her weapon back to bear on her two enemies, she heard the low, monotonous chanting of the drow still behind her, and felt the undeniable surge of magic from him.

She braced herself for some arcane onslaught, and was momentarily taken off guard when none came. Instead, she was forced to again concentrate on the two enemies before her as the both attempted to take advantage of her confusion. She again countered a quick slice from a dagger, and smacked the forearm of its wielder so hard the sound echoed off of the stones, followed quickly by his cry of pain. The one to her right, still breathless from the smack to his rib cage, was slower, and caught the butt of her staff on the chin. His eyes glazed over as his head snapped back, but even as he fell to the floor she heard the drone of another spell being cast behind her.

She snuck a quick glance in the spell caster's direction, but was only able to catch a glimpse of the coalescing magical energy before turning back to the remaining dagger wielding drow. This time he got in under her guard, but his injured arm betrayed his aim, and the blade sliced across her cheek instead of her jugular.

A third series of magical incantations echoed from behind her. She growled, and pressed forward in a reckless series of attacks; first left, then right, then in low behind his knees, duplicating the attack Deekin had so recently used against her. She put more power behind her blow, however, than Deekin did or ever could, and swept the dark elf off of his feet. He fell heavily to the floor, and lay unmoving beside his companion.

She indulged in a moment's wry amusement that she was using tactics learned from a kobold against drow. Drogan would have been proud. She had precious little time for musing, though, so she shook off those thoughts and turned to face her original opponent.

Arcane power now cloaked the drow in a nimbus of eerie green light. His once ebon skin was coated color of granite, and no doubt had the hardness of it as well. In his hand was a short sword, sickly ichor dripping from the blade. Yasha barely had time to curse her inability to have stopped his casting before he leapt to the attack, cutting off further consideration. Her staff caught his blade, which hissed and smoked as it bit deeply into the wood. She used all of her greater mass and strength to push him backwards, throwing him and his blade bodily away from her unarmored body. Dolefully, she looked down at her smoldering staff. Whatever caustic substance covered that blade had eaten a large chunk out of the stout oak in the single exchange. She eyed her opponent as he circled and turned to keep him in front of her. As she shifted her footing, she let the smooth wood slip through her fingers, until she held the staff near the end farthest from the damage, and let the other end rest against the floor. She spared a brief glance behind her to where her kobold companion circled them both.

"Deekin! Duty!" From the corner of her eye, she saw him looked at her doubtfully, then at the blade he had drawn and at the ready. Hopping about a moment in indecision, he finally shook his head turned and ran as swiftly as his legs could carry him towards a side door of the hall.

"It appears your kobold lackey is not eager to fulfill his duty," the dark elf gloated.

Yasha turned back to him, struggling to hold an emotionless expression. "It appears that way, doesn't it?"

He glanced aside once more as the side door slammed closed behind the running kobold, and Yasha took the opportunity. She surged forward, wielding the staff like a huge club, and brought the still smoking end against the drow's hip. He didn't bother to dodge. His protective spells made his skin and tissue as hard as stone, and the blow jarred her arms all the way to her shoulders while sending only a flicker through the protective barrier. The already weakened end of her staff snapped like a twig.She might has well have attacked one of the massive pillars of the hall.

He laughed, turning as her momentum carried her behind him. Scowling, she shifted her grip on her weapon, and twirled, wielding its shortened length as if it were a long sword. He parried one blow after another, his hungry blade sizzling along the length of her impromptu one. They parted again, her weapon smoking like a firebrand. His protective magic cocooned him still.

"I hope there is no more question in your mind, kivvil, who is the superior."

Yasha licked her lips, tasting the coppery blood from her injured cheek. Time was her only ally if she was to survive this little encounter, and somehow she needed to gain more of it. "Superior? Already? Oh my, I did have a question, then." She relaxed her stance, and her eyes swept over the still motionless body of the drow's two companions.. "I'm not familiar with drow dueling rules. Do those two count as two points or no?"

His jaw dropped, and he blinked at her for a moment. "What?"

She savored his reaction, but struggled to maintain a wide-eyed expression of curiosity.

"These two," she said motioning at the two drow on the floor, as if there might have been some doubt as to what she referred to. She frowned at the smoking remains of her staff and waved it a couple more times to try and end the hissing disintegration. Watching his body language for clues as to his reaction, she shrugged, perhaps over-dramatically for her purposes. "If they count," she continued innocently, "then I'm two points up. Otherwise, we're still tied. At least by my calculation."

He titled his head slightly, regarding her as if she were mad. "What kind of fool are you?"

Yasha raised her eyebrows at him. "How many kinds are there?"

He growled at her, his stance shifting suddenly as he charged in insulted fury. Yasha struggled to maintain her focus as the hissing, hungry blade danced through the air around her. Her quickly weakening weapon could not bare much more direct contact, and so she dodged instead, trying to keep herself wholly out of range. The doors to the hall opened once more, and she was unable to resist a glance. Several figures lurked in the gloom by the entrance of the hall, but her stolen glance came at a steep price. She felt the blade tear through her tunic even as she jumped back. Then came the fierce slicing then burning pain as the blade cut across her stomach.

Cradling her abdomen, she gritted her teeth against the pain. It was not deep, but it hurt like all the nine hells. She hoped the acrid smoke that wafted up was more from her tunic than her skin. She couldn't be sure if the returning figures would aid her or not, and she didn't have the luxury of looking more closely to be sure. Worry only had a moment to nag her, however, and she was able to smile briefly when she noticed the figure she most hoped to see over her opponent's shoulder. The dark elf caught her smile, and started to turn, but she charged him again. No longer did she spare her makeshift blade, but attacked him in full fury. He backed a few steps, surprised, but as she suspected the oak finally gave in to the caustic blade. Yasha used her final blow's momentum to carry the wood in a powerful undercut blow. Despite his protective spells, he blinked as the weakened staff splintered in his face. Yasha did not allow the staff to die in vain. She sidestepped around the drow, and held out her hand expectantly.

Deekin, still panting from his run, threw his burden at her.

She caught it in mid-air, grabbing the still sheathed sword by its hilt. She turned just in time to awkwardly parry another blow from her opponent. He frowned first at her hand then at Deekin, and then backed off several paces. Yasha looked down and huffed as a tell-tale bit of smoke wafted up.

"Hey! That's my favorite scabbard, I'll have you know." She gripped smoking scabbard with her left hand, and started to unsheathe her sword with her right.

The dark elf hissed some drow phrase at her. Instead of lifting his blade at her as she expected, he lifted is free hand and gestured towards her. Panic stopped her heart for a moment as the world turned black. For one breathless second, she was gripped by the irrational fear that he had somehow teleported her to the Plane of Shadow. She paused, confusion and heart pounding fear fighting for dominance. Ironically, her opponent's nimbus of magic saved her. His glowing form lit up the darkness as came in for the kill, and she reflexively pulled back from his swing. For a moment, she smelled the foul stench of the acid of his blade, and felt droplets from the blade splatter and eat at her skin on her shoulder. She breathed again even as he disappeared once more into the blackness, shaking her head roughly and gripping the hilt of her blade like a lifeline. She was still in the hall, as was he. It was merely some darkness spell.

"Well done," she growled as soon as she could speak. She strained her senses, hoping to hear or see if he approached again as she pulled her blade free and held it before her. Honey gold light flashed along its surface, followed immediately by a fierce white flame. "I see the drow appreciate the advantage of surprise in battle, so I'm sure you'll appreciate this. Let me introduce you to Duty."

The sword flashed brilliantly in response to her will. Instantly the darkness around her gave way. Her opponent certainly looked surprised, though he didn't seem to appreciate it all that much.

In her hand, her holy sword pulsed of its own accord, its metallic voice sounding like a clear, tolling bell with every surge of light. Yasha savored the familiar feel of divine magic flowing through her. Though, as always, it was hard to tell if it traveled from her sword or to it. It mattered little, and she breathed deeply as the pain in her stomach faded.

Deekin began to charge forward and she waved him away with her sword. He skidded to a surprised stop, and she spared him a single, grateful smile, and shook her head once. The watchers still waited just outside of her range of vision. They may well think it a free for all if he joined in. If those watchers wished her to prove herself, then that's what she would do. The kobold frowned at her but stayed where he was.

She then turned her grin on the drow before her, slowly twining the sword belt around the forearm of her off hand. "What do you say? Should we call the points even now? Next point takes the duel?" She kept her voice light, but she felt her smile turn grim. "I imagine you generally find the phrase 'sudden death' somewhat appealing, though perhaps not so appealing now as before."

He glanced around him and seemed panicked for a moment at what he saw. Throwing caution to the wind he snarled and charged her. She parried, and parried again, her long sword intercepting the smaller before it came close, the blade so eager in her hand that the smaller blade's speed was out-matched. They met with a ferocious sizzle, as the holy fire burned away the acidic poison as quickly as the dire blade could make it. Yasha focused on her enemy, countering his movements with tight, controlled swings. She held the sword belt and scabbard still in her offhand; though out of the way and behind her to keep it out from beneath their feet.

Blood pounded through Yasha's veins as the tide turned. Her audience made no move to interfere, and she resented being forced to battle in this manner. She switched from defense to offense, slamming her blade hard against his smaller sword and willing power into her holy blade. Again, Duty responded to her will with a brilliant flare of light, and as it swept over her opponent, it washed away the green nimbus of magic and the rocky cast of his skin. Even his blade's acidic glow recoiled under the wave for a moment. His eyes widened in alarm as he realized what had happened.

He nimbly danced free of her blade, and broke off his attack. The holy sword's eager calls filled the hall, the only sound besides the shuffle of their feet on the obsidian floor. She forced herself to remember: ally of my ally. The sword thrummed with building power, and it was more of a battle to keep it in check than to keep on the attack, and she had to repeat the refrain in her head. Ally of my ally. She broke off her attack and stepped back in a relaxed, defensive stance. The drow's breaths came quick and shallow now, and he circled her warily. She turned slowly to follow him as he stalked about her, sizing her up once again. Ally of my ally, she reminded herself once more. His eyes focused behind her, and he snarled once more.

"We finish this now!"

He raised his hands, forming a pattern for the start of a spell she had seen too often in her adventuring career. Fiery death it was, but it was also a complicated spell. She smiled. There was one more surprise for him, after all. Her eager sword fairly pulled her across the space separating them. To his credit, his chanting continued non-stop, even as he flawlessly wove the deflection of her blade in with the casting of his spell. He was not, however, prepared when her scabbard followed after her blade and slammed in under his ribs.

He staggered back, gasping, and the magical energies around him dissipated. She waited for a moment for him to recover so his staggering would stop, and lunged in again. She beat back his feeble counter, finally smacking his sword out of his hands, and Duty touched his throat before the clatter of his weapon hitting the ground filled the hall. For a moment they stood still, her arm cocked back and ready to drive the blade forward. She stared at him over the pulsing light of her blade, waiting for his eyes to reflect the recognition of his defeat.

"I do hope you'll concede my point, now." His eyes flashed angrily at her words, but they also reflected bitter resignation at his defeat.

"And what point did you hope to make, Yasha, Paladin of Torm?"

Yasha pulled her blade and turned at the words, though she was careful to keep the beaten opponent within sight. Much to her chagrin, she recognized the lilting voice as that of her hostess.

"Why, the winning point of the duel of course, Seer." She replied, stepping a step or two back to position the still kneeling attacker between the her and the priestess.

She laughed, a light joyful sound like of the surface elves she had known, and so unlike what she had come to expect from any drow, let alone a priestess. "Oh?" the Seer replied. "I thought it might be the entire point of the duel you wished him to concede."

The dark elf Yasha had been fighting had a sudden sour look on his face, which did wonders for Yasha's mood. Bowing to the Seer, he thanked Yasha for the honor of a friendly duel, begged the Seer's pardon, and fairly fled from the hall. Relieved, the paladin watched him go, happy that they had both survived the encounter, although perhaps a bit more happy about her survival than his.

"Boss? Deekin thinks you need a new shirt now."

Yasha turned towards the kobold in surprise, and then looked down at her tunic. A gaping hole spread all the way across its front, and parts of it still smoldered even as she watched. The skin underneath was still pink from the recent healing of the holy magic, but she certainly had no magic that would similarly repair the gray fabric, nor wash her freshly spilled blood from it.

"I just bought this tunic in Waterdeep, too," she said mournfully. "They guaranteed the workmanship for years." Then, unable to keep her sad face, she smiled down at him. She leaned down so her quiet voice would reach him. "Well done, Deekin, on getting Duty so fast. You saved my hide."

Deekin bared his teeth in a wide smile, his dark eyes glittering in the low light. She then motioned him to follow as she approached the Seer.

The Seer's eyes flicked between Yasha's tunic and her face as she approached. "Are you injured?"

Blinking, Yasha recalled the cut on her cheek, and absently brushed it with her hand. Her fingers came away covered blood, though the shallow cut had also healed. "No longer," she replied.

"Good. However, I would appreciate it if you refrained from fighting in the main hall, if you could. We do treat it as holy ground of Eilistraee."

Yasha slid her sword back into its sheath, silencing its metallic call with a firm snap. She held the sword within its sheath before her, parallel to the floor, and formally bowed to the drow priestess. "Please believe I meant no disrespect to you, Seer, or to your goddess."

The Seer nodded her head slightly and accepted the apology with a brief smile. "No lasting harm done, I think," she said, turning to walk to the head of the hall. The paladin fell in behind the Seer, awkwardly trying to strap on her sword belt as she did so. She planned not to be without Duty again while she walked the halls of the drow.


	2. Chapter 2 Revised

It was only a short time later that Yasha found herself back in the humble room they had assigned to her, finishing strapping on the last of her armor. She had been there barely half a day, and already the geas magic that bound her to the defeat of the Valsharess was starting to tug at her soul. The Seer had been distraught when she discovered the magic that tied her to the priestess' cause, despite Yasha's assurances that she was otherwise quite willing to help. They had told her of the Valsharess' allies, who were many and powerful, and of the allies of her hostess, who were few and fractious. Woefully, Yasha reflected she had more than enough proof of the later. No doubt she would soon have plenty of proof of the former, as well. The Seer had suggested going after more allies and perhaps finding some other sources of power first, as they might be used as leverage against the enemy's allies when it was time to start picking them off. Yasha agreed, as much because it defied the geas as because of the strategic value of the idea.

It had been then that the Seer had told the paladin that she would be in charge of the Seer's plans and troops. Yasha sighed. All of their hopes, and all her faith, was now in Yasha's hands. She barely knew them. She certainly had little grasp on drow politics. She believed the Seer when the priestess told her it had been important that Yasha had defeated her attackers without interference. Hadn't Yasha thought the very same thing when she had waved Deekin off. Still, it rankled. Besides, Yasha had never been the leader of more than one or two allies. Torm, Tyr and Ilmater! She was a servant of her god, not a leader of armies.

Of course, she was not alone in that assessment. She remembered well the tiefling Valen's alarmed reaction to the Seer's words. "What do we really know about this woman? She could be the death of us all! I won't throw away my life by blindly following anyone, and I don't think anyone here should, either."

She scowled. It was one thing for her to doubt whether she should be leading the drow. To have the tiefling object so strenuously, however, had been insulting. "Yes, well, I didn't ask for your blind devotion anyway," Yasha growled.

"So you've started talking to yourself now too?" came a muffled voice from behind her.

Yasha turned slightly, and scowled at the hilt of the sword that was strapped to her back. "Enserric, don't start with me. I'm not in the mood."

"You're never in the mood to be corrected. And there! You're strapping on that other blade again. What, am I not good enough any more?"

Yasha finished buckling her sword belt, pursing her lips. "Duty is a holy avenger. Most paladins would give their left arm to have such a sword. It is an honor to wield her."

"I'm just as good," the other sword complained. "And I talk!"

"You're also vampiric, reek of chaotic power, and have a nasty tendency to drain my strength in battle to power your attacks."

"Hey! I said I would try to control that. You can't blame me. It's just my nature. Err...this sword's nature. It's not my fault I got trapped in this sword, you know!" Enserric stopped whining for a bit, and his tone was considerably more controlled as he continued. "So what DO you plan to do with me now that you have your precious Duty, eh? Why bother to carry me around at all?"

"Perhaps, Enserric," Yasha replied, keeping her voice even, "I just keep you with me so you cannot fall into the wrong hands. Perhaps I plan to turn you over to a stronghold of Torm at the earliest opportunity, so they can decide what your fate will be?"

The sword was silent for a shocked moment. "You're not serious, are you? I mean, they might lock me away forever or...or...destroy me thinking I'm some sort of evil artifact. You can't do that!"

"I can't?" Yasha asked innocently, pulling her holy symbol over her head.

"No!"

She laughed. "If you say so, then of course it must be true." She laughed again at his wordless growl. Perhaps, Enserric, I'm actually hoping to find some way to help you. That one day I might run into a mage powerful and skilled enough to free you from the sword you've been bound to? You have to admit, at least I'm more entertaining than sitting with a bunch of dead kings, right? So relax and please, please just be quiet when I talk to myself."

He relented, and stayed silent while check all of her equipment. She cupped her holy symbol in her hands for a moment, running her thumb over the fine, gold chain – the very best she could afford when she arrived in Waterdeep. The symbol itself, however, was a crudely carved wooden piece vaguely shaped like an upraised gauntlet. She rubbed its worn surface gently. To her, it was more valuable by far than any chain she could buy for it.

"Mooning over your jewelry again?"

Yasha scowled, and let the carving fall against her chest plate with a small clink. "Keep it up, Enserric, and I'll throw you in a river. I've been told there's one close to here. You can spend the next few decades staring at blind fish."

"Fine," he snapped, and fell silent again. Yasha fervently hoped he would stay quiet for a while. She was definitely not in the mood this morning, and she helf few hopes that the day would improve. She didn't have long to enjoy the silence, however, for immediately afterwards there was a soft rapping, and Deekin's raspy voice asked if she was ready. Squaring her shoulders, she picked up her bag and opened her door.

Deekin turned his scaly, dog-like face up to her. The kobold actually looked rather dapper in his leather armor, or at least as dapper as the little reptilian humanoid could look. He was weighed down with equipment, from the short sword strapped to his side to the vials of potions along his belt to the bulging pack on his shoulders, despite his constant protests of having a bad back. Spare sheets of paper peaked out of his backpack, and a lute was strapped across the top. Yasha grinned down at him.

"I should have bought you that feathered cap I saw in Waterdeep," she mused. "It would have been perfect."

He looked up at her doubtfully, but didn't comment. Perhaps he sensed her mood. He was certainly more observant than he usually let on, after all. She led him down the hallway towards the entrance of the great temple, trying to ignore the dark spider motif of the carvings on the wall. Despite the Seer's assurances of the disappearance of the Spider Queen of the drow, and despite even her own inability to sense the Evil that must cling to this place were it still dedicated to the dark goddess, it still made her flesh crawl to see some of the engravings in the stonework. She found herself hoping that the rooms she had been housed in were priests' quarters and hadn't been used for anything worse when its original inhabitants had held the temple.

Deekin broke her disturbing thoughts, hissing at her in a low voice. "Oooo...there's the man with goat horns. You sure you wants to take him with us, boss?"

"Why shouldn't we Deekin?" she whispered back. "The Seer assured me he is a very skilled warrior, and knows the area well."

"I don't know boss," replied. "He has a bad look on his face all the time, like he's got gas. Deekin been with gassy people before, remember? They get short tempered and smell bad all the time."

Yasha snorted, trying to choke back her laughter as they walked towards the tiefling. He turned to look at them coolly as they approached. Of course, Yasha had several reservations of her own to taking him, given his reaction the evening before. She was feeling obtuse, though. It may well have been his reaction that caused her to insist he come with them. It certainly was that which made her enjoy Deekin's observations. Yasha leaned down closer to the kobold and whispered. "Maybe he just needs a change in diet. Let's give him a chance."

Deekin sighed dramatically. "If you says so boss. Deekin tries not to say 'I tolds you so' when things starts smelling bad, though."

She winked at him and smiled, but forced herself to sober as she approached Valen. If she was to fight by his side, mocking him right out of the gate was likely a poor start. He seemed ready for battle, at least. Clad in heavy emerald color armor, and out-fitted for travel, he stood motionless before the door as if guarding it from their approach rather than waiting for them. His red hair was a dark as blood in the dim light, but his eyes had flashed like ice blue steel as they came to a stop before him. She offered him a friendly smile anyway. "Hail, Valen."

He nodded briefly in her direction. "My lady." His low voice was crisply neutral.

She struggled to maintain her friendliness. "'My lady'? Why so formal?"

"Well, you are the Seer's chosen hero, are you not? And you have been put in charge of this expedition...and everything else, or so it seems."

Yasha felt her smile slip a bit, and she tilted her head at him. "I see. Well, since we'll be traveling together, perhaps you'd like to tell me a little more about yourself?"

He gave her a hard stare. "I'm a warrior; a soldier. You would be hard pressed to find one more skilled with the blade then I am. And, like the Seer, I stand against the Valsharess. I don't think you're entitled to much more than that, since I barely even know you. The Seer may think you're something special, but I'm reserving judgment until the Valsharess is defeated."

Yasha sighed, her smile finally fading all the way. She looked down at her clasped hands for a moment, struggling not to press her hands against her temples. This day was already living up to her expectations. Taking a deep breath to steel herself she raised her eyes back to his. "I get the feeling you don't like me," she replied ruefully.

"Untrue," he said quietly. "I do not even know you, so I can hardly dislike you. But unlike the Seer, I'm not about to put all my faith in you until you've proven yourself against the Valsharess."

She nodded once and sighed. "Fair enough, I suppose. I..." Yasha stopped in mid- sentence. A figure moved, shadow on shadow, through the darkness.

"Nathyrra!" Yasha exclaimed, pulling her hand from Duty's hilt. "You have to stop doing that to me. It makes me jumpy, and jumpy paladins are not pleasant."

Nathyrra smiled archly at her as she stepped from the shadows. "I'll keep that in mind." She didn't seem particularly alarmed at the prospect, however. Yasha had to stifle another sigh as the drow continued, "The Seer asked me to help show you around Lith My'athar and answer any remaining questions you might have before you go."

"I appreciate that," Yasha replied, nodding her thanks. "Please convey my gratitude to the Seer as well."

"I will." The drow looked at the others expectantly. "If you are ready then?"

Yasha looked to Valen, who spread his hands in what seemed to be a signal that he was prepared to leave. Deekin nodded eagerly. She, in turn, nodded at Nathyrra. "We're ready."

They exited the temple hall, and descended the broad dark stairway at its massive entrance. The cavern was huge, but the air was still and held the cool heaviness that silently spoke of the great amount of rock that lay just out of Yasha's sight above them. There were a few light sources scattered about, though they were dim and far between as the drow had little use for bright lights. Yasha followed politely as Nathyrra led the way, showing her a public house and a corral full of some breed of underground cattle the drow referred to as rothe. Yasha took silent note of the number of the drow that milled about, some performing tasks, and others training for war. They were indeed few, and, more distressing to her, a considerable number made the hairs stand up on the back of her neck when they approached. She had little doubt that, were Duty in her hands, the sword would be constantly flashing warning signals at her. Valen, for his part, remained mostly silent, apparently preoccupied with his thoughts. Or perhaps he just didn't feel the desire to speak with her. Deekin was taking notes, his nose pressed close to the paper in the dim light.

"That," Nathyrra said, continuing the impromptu tour, "is the Maeviir public house."

Yasha squinted into the darkness. "Didn't we already see one public house?"

"Yes, but this specifically houses the lesser of the Maeviir family, including the Matron's daughter," Nathyrra replied, sounding bored. She made a move to continue walking.

Yasha was puzzled, however. "Her daughter does not live in the main house?"

"If you ask that," Nathyrra said dryly, "then you do not know drow family politics very well."

"True," the paladin conceded, continuing to peer into the shadows. She wondered whether it was the daughter or the mother that had decided on their separation. She played with it in her mind a bit, but decided she her lack of 'drow family politics' information precluded her guessing. If she squinted just right, though, she thought she could make out some sort of building in the direction Nathyrra pointed. It might be good to know where it lay.

Nathyrra looked from Yasha to the distant building and back again, looking concerned. "You cannot see it?" Nathyrra asked.

She looked back at the drow. She opened her mouth, and closed it again. "I see lots and lots of dark," she finally admitted with a shrug.

"I didn't realize rivvil eyesight was so poor. You will have difficulties in the Underdark then," Nathyrra said, frowning.

Yasha cocked a half-smile at her in reply. "I'll muddle through somehow, I imagine," she replied wryly. "I have practice, after all. That reminds me. What does 'rivvil' mean anyway? I keep getting called that, and it would make me feel better if I knew...well..."

"If you are being insulted?" Nathyrra finished lightly. Her eyes flashed with amusement. "Yes and no. It merely means 'surfacer'."

"Yes AND no. Ah. That makes sense." She motioned towards the building. "Can we go in?"

Nathyrra furrowed her brow. "Into the Maeviir public house? Yes, if you wish."

The first face they saw when they entered, as luck would have it, was a familiar one. Yasha nodded a greeting at the drow she had fought earlier that morning. He scowled at her, but gave her a wide berth as he silently exited the building. Yasha watched him go, wondering if his defeat made him a respectful ally or a lurking enemy.

"I wonder where his two friends are," she asked, mostly to herself.

"They are dead," Nathyrra replied, matter of factly.

"But...but I did not think I hit them that hard." She frowned at herself then. THAT was certainly not the impression she wanted with her new allies. And she had been very careful with her blows.

"You did not." Nathyrra assured her. "He killed them himself, since they failed him."

Yasha focused on the dark elf, her mind struggling to wrap around what she had just heard. She had to repeat it to herself a couple of times before the meaning sank in. She blinked repeatedly at Nathyrra, who merely looked at her with raised eyebrows. Yasha struggled to find something to say. When she realized that she was gaping liked a landed fish and no words had yet come to her, she was finally forced to settle for a small, "Oh."

"Some will say you should have killed him, you know. He was both disrespectful to a female in power and fool enough to challenge you openly. Mercy is considered a great weakness among many drow."

Yasha pursed her lips at the other woman's comments, her skin prickling unpleasantly. Who was she being warned against, exactly?

"What do you think?" Yasha asked carefully.

Nathyrra looked away from the paladin for a moment, apparently looking about the room, though her eyes seemed unfocused. Her eyes were sad when they returned to meet Yasha's. "I've only recently learned to appreciate the value of mercy."

Beside her, Yasha sensed Valen shift uneasily. She looked at him, but the tiefling's face was still inscrutable as far as she was concerned. Valen and Nathyrra shared a brief, knowing look, but neither said anything further. When it seemed clear they would let things lay at that, Yasha gritted her teeth and decided not to push the issue.

"Well, " Yasha replied. "I don't regret letting him live. I certainly didn't think it was a good idea to start killing off allies, all things considered. Besides, if I started running through everyone who annoyed me or who I had somehow irritated, I'd leave a swath of bodies across the surface of Faerun, I'm afraid." She frowned briefly, looking around the room. "And my blade spills the blood of too many already," she added in a softer voice.

Glancing back at Nathyrra, she saw the tilted head and frown of her reaction, though Yasha wasn't sure of the woman was expressing disapproval over her flippant "swath of bodies" comment or her final addition. The drow didn't voice whatever was in her head, so Yasha scanned the room again, her eyes finally resting on a young drow woman. From her bearing and dress, and how her two companions deferred to her in voice and action, she was obviously someone of relative importance. Eager to drop the current topic, she walked away from her companions, and towards the woman she presumed to be the House Maeviir daughter. The dark elf turned as she approached, and addressed her before Yasha could introduce herself.

"So you are the rivvil the Seer has put her faith in? Yasha, isn't it? My name is Zesyyr... only daughter and sole surviving heir to Matron Myrune of House Maeviir."

Yasha bowed briefly, "It is an honor to meet you, Zesyyr Maeviir."

"I was hoping you would come to see me, Yasha. I have an offer for you, but it would draw too much attention if I had sought you out. But since you've stumbled over to me..."

Yasha eyed the drow woman warily. "An offer? What kind of offer?"

"House Maeviir - my house - has fallen on hard times. Matron Myrune, my mother, has brought us to the very brink of destruction. Many believe it is time for a change. Many believe I should rule. Of course, my mother is no fool. She understands the danger I represent, which is why she exiled me from the tower where she now dwells. She thinks she's safe inside the high walls."

Yasha licked her lips nervously. From the pot to the fire, it seemed. Perhaps she had been better off joking about killing swaths of irritated people after all. She didn't like the sudden turn the conversation had taken, but was at a loss as to how to steer it to some safer, polite topic.

Nathyrra interrupted before she could think of anything. "Obviously she isn't as safe as she thinks. I know this is how we were brought up, but there is another path you can take. One that isn't fraught with betrayal and death. Eilistraee can--"

"Don't throw your god in my face!" the other woman snapped. "We can't all run away to the surface; some of us have to survive down here in the Underdark. And that means plotting to assure my own future." Zesyyr turned her glinting, ruby eyes back on Yasha. "My mother thinks I am no longer a threat, but I have more support than she knows. All I need to complete my coup is an assassin powerful enough to kill her and her bodyguard."

Assassin? Yasha gritted her teeth. She was no assassin. The daughter was a fool to use that language if she thought to convince Yasha of anything but how quickly she should walk away. "You want me to kill your own mother?" she asked, her voice hard.

Valen shook his head in disgust. "These are the kind of allies we are counting on to stand with us against the Valsharess?"

The drow daughter laughed, nonplussed by their reactions. "Surely you aren't surprised? This is the way of the drow. The Matron Mothers raise their daughters knowing full well we are scheming to replace them as soon as we come of age."

Nausea churned Yasha's stomach, and her skin flushed at her barely contained outrage. Her own mother?! "I won't be a party to this horrible crime!"

Zesyyr raised her eyebrows. "You are quick to condemn me, Yasha, but you don't have all the facts. You shouldn't judge me until you know the whole story."

Yasha just frowned at her dubiously, struggling to reign in her insulted anger. She knew full well she was in new territory, and she had always been taught that knowledge was as useful a weapon as her sword.

"I know my mother," the dark elf continued. "She doesn't believe we can defeat the Valsharess, and she's afraid. Do you really believe she will fight by the Seer's side when the Valsharess attacks? Matron Myrune will betray your Seer the first chance she gets. I, however, actually believe we can defeat the Valsharess. I won't turn on my allies at the first sign of trouble."

The paladin weighed this possibility carefully, before replying. "Why should I believe someone trying to kill her own mother?"

"Consider this, Yasha: Matron Myrune has lost her ambition, she would rather serve the Valsharess than die. I still have my ambition, and I won't bow so easily before our common enemy."

She offered her ambition as proof of her trustworthiness. The drow were indeed a breed apart. "Sorry, I'm not interested," Yasha replied flatly.

She sighed. "This is an excellent opportunity, Yasha. You'd be a fool to throw it away. Come speak to me again if you change your mind."

Bowing, Yasha took her leave as civilly as she could. Unable to trust herself to not make more of a scene, and having had her fill of mingling with the drow for one day in any case, she headed for the door.


	3. Chapter 3 Revised

It was a relief to get back out into the cavern, though she would have preferred a warm spring breeze and some sunshine. Perhaps some birds trilling. Indeed, the need to escape the caves of the Underdark gnawed at her for a moment. It quickly awakened the sleeping geas spell, however. for she felt it tighten around her, squeeze the air out of her lungs like some horrid snake. A clear vision of the Valsharess appeared before her eyes, reminding her quite forcefully that there was something she had to do before she would be allowed to return to the surface.

"Boss! Wait up! Wait for little Deekin!"

Yasha paused, turning back. She was already so far from the Maeviir public house that she could no longer make it out in the gloom. She could make out Deekin's small form scrambling towards her, however, and behind him two more figures she took to be Nathyrra and Valen. Huffing at herself, she turned back away, though she kept her steps very slow now. She moodily grabbed her holy symbol, rubbing it thoughtfully between her fingers as the others approached. Her temper was definitely growing worse. She needed to control it or get herself killed once back in the wilds of the Underdark. No, it was more than that. She was a paladin. She had ideals to uphold. Those ideals didn't include treating her friends and allies poorly whenever a dark mood struck her.

"Sorry Deekin," she murmured, as soon as she saw him beside her. Then, hearing the them close behind her, she turned and forced herself to look each in the eye before speaking. "I apologize," she repeated, loud enough for them to hear.

Nathyrra regarded her curiously. "I understand your reaction, to an extent. Were you not familiar with drow customs at all?"

Yasha winced at herself. If only she could duck behind the excuse of ignorance. "I am, actually. But it is one thing to be told about them. It is quite another to...to..." She shrugged helplessly. "Still, I should have kept my temper better. I just...can't imagine approaching someone and suggesting...encouraging..."

She sighed and made a sour face. Turning towards the river, she starting walking again at a relaxed pace. "And I thought I had bad arguments with MY mother," she said shakily.

Nathyrra took a position beside Yasha with grace and effortlessly kept pace. She raised her eyebrows delicately, glancing back at the Maeviir public house only once before turnign back to Yasha. "You do not get along with your mother?"

Yasha shook her head, regretting her attempt at humor already. It was not fair to her mother to let drow thing so ill of her. "I wouldn't go that far. Not like that. She just...doesn't approve of some of the choices I've made."

"Oh? Would she rather you became a priestess?" Nathyrra looked at her with frank curiosity.

"No. Well, yes, if that meant I would stay closer to home, marry some nice local boy, and forget about wandering about and adventuring. She worries. Too much. Whenever I visit, she constantly reminds me of how dangerous my life is, and keeps coming up with what gruesome, horrible death may await me before my next visit." She paused and gave Nathyrra a long suffering look. "She also wonders why I don't visit often."

Yasha held the mock distressed look for as long as she could, but finally broke it with a tired grin. Apparently uncertain what to make of her, the dark elf smiled back after a moment. The paladin thought she heard a brief chuckle from behind her, but when she looked at the tiefling, his face was coolly neutral. She looked at him with amused suspicion, but only got a briefly raised eyebrow out of his composed expression before being distracted by Deekin.

"Boss? She tells you about nasty, gruesome deaths you might have? Seriously? You mean like being turned to stones by the snake hair lady? That not really dead, though was it? And Deekin thinks it not especially gruesome, maybe."

Yasha froze in her tracks furrowed her brow at Deekin. She licked her lips once, and then, with slow deliberation, turned and walked towards the docks. "Maybe not. It wasn't pleasant though."

Deekin followed, taking the side opposite of where Nathyrra now walked. Peering up at her, he continued, "Oh! What about being torn limb from limb by tiger people and stuffed in a sarc...sarco...box for dead people? Deekin thinks that's pretty gruesome."

Yasha just stared a Deekin for a few paces. What would be least likely to encourage him to continue? "Yes, Deekin," she answered finally. "That would be both horrible and gruesome, I think."

"Or what about that big blue dragon? What if his lightning hit you? You gots big, lightning attracting metal sword, you knows. That'd be gruesome too, Deekin thinking. That the kind of thing she'd say, you think?"

Having arrived at the river's edge, Yasha dropped her pack heavily at her feet. She turned to Deekin, a note of warning hardening her voice. "Yes, Deekin, just like that."

To all appearances oblivious to both Yasha's growling tone and her hard look, Deekin just widened his eyes and continued. "Or what about gettings trapped in the desert and eaten by scorpion people? That would be nasty. Hmm...though the gruesome part comes after the dyings part, so maybe it not count. What about..."

Yasha sighed and crossed her arms. Restlessly, she rocked back and forth from her heels to her toes and back again, trying to block out the descriptions of painful, unpleasant deaths they had either witnessed or been close to experiencing over the last several months. She tried occupying her mind with the study of the dark river before her. It was dark and seemed almost viscous, though that might have been a trick on how the dim light hit the black waters. In many parts, the water seemed almost glassy and calm, though Yasha recognized the tell-tale signs of a nasty undertow.

It smelt of death. It was not even the natural decay of a stagnating pond, but a sharp unpleasant smell that warned every instinct away from it. She felt no flow of true evil in its depths, but still could not shake a sense of near antipathy towards her and other life from the inky waters. She mentally added another unpleasant ending to Deekin's ongoing litany of death – being swallowed whole by such deadly waters. The waters seemed to shift, then, an almost indiscernible giving and redirection of the currents. She thought she heard something in the distance, like the splashing of a fish near the surface, if any fish could survive living in such a body of water. She turned back to Deekin. His voice was pitched high, now, and his words came quickly. For gods only knew what reason, he had definitely warmed up to his subject.

"...sliced up by those nasty spiders with sharp legs like swords - you remember those, right Boss? - then hung upside down and eaten. Or being trapped in the Plane of Shadows and..."

That was quite enough of THAT train of thought.

"Deekin!" Yasha snapped.

"Yes, Boss?" She frowned as he flinched from the harshness in her voice, his tone becoming almost obsequious. She'd done it again. He actually didn't deserve the full brunt of her discomfort, and he hardly knew how deeply she still feared the varied deaths available to her in the Plane of Shadows. Or how one death in particular still haunted her. She sucked in a deep, calming breath.

"Hush."

"Uhhh...right, Boss." Deekin nodded, standing straighter again.

"Thank you," Valen said dryly, after it became clear the Deekin was indeed not going to continue. Yasha tossed a half grin at him, then turned her attention back to the river before them.

She heard the noise again, clearer now. It was several moments before a something emerged from the cavernous gloom, separating itself in her vision from the liquid darkness of the river. A long, flat bottom boat glided towards them. At its stern she could just barely discern a hunched figure, draped in a heavy robe. The figure pushed the boat through the currents somehow, and the river seemed to relent before him.

She turned back to Valen. "This is Cavallas the Boatman that you told me about earlier?"

The tiefling nodded briefly. "It is."

Yasha looked back at the approaching figure. She couldn't help but think of the stories she'd heard of the dark boatman of the underworld navigating the dreaded river Styx.

"Charming," she commented softly. Still, she scooped up her pack again, and moved to wait for the boat on the docks.

"This is where I leave you," Nathyrra said. "I will do further scouting of the Valsharess' troops while you are gone, and see if there is any more information I may gain for you. Please, I ask that you do not take long investigating these rumors. Though they may benefit us, as you argued, the Valsharess and her allies are very real threats. We do not know when her final attack may come."

Yasha nodded. "We'll look into these things as quickly as possible, I swear."

Nathyrra nodded, first to her, then to Valen. "Then I wish you luck."

"Good luck to you Nathyrra," Valen answered. "Take care of..." He paused, his tail twitching once. "Take care."

Nathyrra looked somber, and inclined her head briefly, before turning back towards the drow encampment.

Yasha looked at Valen curiously, but he just motioned towards the river again. "I would suggest caution when dealing with Cavallas. He is... a bit strange, I must admit."

Her eyes followed his motion, and she looked at the Boatman once more. He was pushing up to dock now. Yasha watched closely, hoping to catch some glimpse of the mysterious figure's face or hands, but it was careful to keep itself covered, and the hood seemed filled with only an impenetrable darkness. Squaring her shoulders, she walked up the dock. Before she was able to introduce herself, however, the figure turned towards her.

"I've been waiting for you."

Yasha shuddered, both at its ominous words and at its voice. She couldn't help but think that the low, gurgling noise was exactly like the last sound a drowning man might make. She looked back at Valen, but he looked just as surprised at the Boatman's words as she was.

"You've been waiting...for me?"

Its hooded nodded once. And a robed draped armed gestured towards the murky waters behind it. "I hear the Dark River's voice. It whispers secrets, like the dying gurgles of a drowning man. I know why you have come."

Yasha couldn't help but shift uncomfortably as the figure described the river's voice with the words that had, just a moment before, passed through her mind to describe his.

"You seek to destroy the Valsharess; her death is your release. I can help you with this. I know the secrets of the islands; the Dark River whispers them to me when I glide across her waters."

"I...I see." Yasha focused on the hooded creature fiercely. Despite the unpleasant appearance and demeanor, she could not feel the presence of true Evil from it.

"Why are you helping me?" she asked finally.

"The soul of the Valsharess is black and cold. She hungers to conquer, she yearns to rule every inch of every corner of the Underdark. Even the wild currents of the Dark River. Her power is growing, and soon she will enslave the Dark River itself, bending its untamed waters to her whims and will. That cannot happen. That is why I will take you to the islands."

Surprised and concerned, Yasha glanced quickly at Valen. He had been most insistent that the presence of the deadly river at the encampment's back had been one of the best ways to maintain its defensibility. If the river itself fell to the Valsharess' will, then they would certainly be over- run. From the scowl on the teifling's face, she knew he realized the same thing.

Yasha cleared her throat. "Tell me of these secrets, then."

She listened closely as Cavallas told her of the islands of the river; of an ancient tower of a golem creating duergar called the Maker and of a mysterious town that appeared out of nowhere. She furrowed her brows as he described the inhabitants as winged elves. The avariel were not known for loving the depths of any cave.

"But there is something else on the island, as well," he continued, speaking the strange elven village. "Something magical. I can feel its power as my boat floats by the shores, though its exact nature is hidden from me.I suspect this magic is the source of the town's strange appearance. If you could harness such power you could use it against the Valsharess."

That seemed the most promising lead. Besides, her curiosity insisted on knowing what had, quite literally, brought the flying elves so low. She nodded, making her decision. "Take me to the island with the strange town."

They stowed their gear in the center of the odd boat, and took their seats, Yasha claiming a place near the prow. As Cavallas turned the boat about, her gaze lingered on the scattered lights of the drow buildings. Despite the unpleasantness of nearly half the occupants, it seemed much more welcoming than the unyielding darkness that dominated where the Dark River met the lightless caves. She leaned an elbow on the edge of the boat and peered down at the roiling depths. Sense kept her hands well clear of the water, however. No matter how closely she looked, however, she could see nothing but liquid blackness.

"Might we speak?"

Yasha started as the tiefling's voice broke the silence. She blinked at him, surprised. She had not expected him to strike up a conversation. Perhaps he would be a more talkative companion after all.

"Certainly, Valen. What would you like?"

Her hopefulness faded into discomfort as she met his eyes. His stare was intense. Though he obviously chose his words with care, she was suddenly fairly sure it would not be friendly small talk.

"I wish to know," he began, "what makes you so special?"

She blinked at him, caught off guard by his odd question. "What do you mean?"

"I speak, of course, of the fact that you have replaced me as the leader of our forces. I have kept us alive for months, and suddenly you appear," he made a slash with his hand, "and it is over."

She titled her head at him, raising an eyebrow. "That's a little dramatic, isn't it?"

"According to everything I've been told," he replied dryly, "being dramatic is one of my specialties."

Despite herself, Yasha grinned at him. So he did have a sense of humor after all.

He maintained a serious face for a few moments longer before finally sighing and rolling his eyes. "Very well. You are probably correct... I am making too much of this. I would still like to know your thoughts."

Yasha sighed and stretched her legs. Shaking her head she said, "I didn't ask to be put in charge."

His fierce blue eyes narrowed. "That's true. But you are in charge now. Does that mean nothing to you?"

So, if she seemed eager for the responsibilities, she was over-reaching herself. If she claimed to not have wanted it, then she didn't take it seriously enough. He seemed determined to see fault with her either way. She considered a moment. "It's a duty I shall see through to the end, I promise you."

He studied her thoughtfully. "I... am glad to hear that, if a little surprised. You barely know us, and you've no reason to accept such a duty gladly."

"I may not be overly fond of many in House Maeviir, but I am honored to help the Seer, if I can. Believe it or not, my mentor Drogan included quite a bit of information on Eilistraee and her followers as part of my training. Though, mostly he taught me as part of a bigger lesson, I think."

Valen looked at her doubtfully. "And what lesson was that?"

She looked back at him sadly. Thinking of her lost mentor still made her melancholy. "To not judge others too quickly." She sighed. "It was a difficult lesson for me to learn, I'm afraid. I got my knuckles switched so many times, I couldn't hold my sword for practice for two days."

"Oooo!" Deekin exclaimed from his seat behind Valen. "Deekin thought Drogan was such a nice dwarf too."

Yasha laughed briefly, though it sounded humorless even to her own ears. Drogan had not been a follower of Torm himself. When her teacher had learned of her inclinations, however, he had gathered many books on the teachings of the church, and had been most eager to install in her the Penance of Duty. She thought perhaps he agreed with the lessons they taught more than any other parts of her personal oaths to Torm. "Drogan ordered the lesson, but an...ally of his actually gave it. I don't believe she was a follower of Eilistraee herself, unfortunately." She rubbed her fingers at the remembered pain, and focused on Valen once more. "I've sworn an oath to aid and defend all those of goodly faith, regardless of who they are or where. I have also sworn specifically that I would help you and the Seer. I take my oaths very seriously."

Valen was silent for a long minute, seemingly troubled by his thoughts. He didn't comment on her revelations, but seemed to comment instead on where his thoughts had quietly gone. "The Seer believes what she believes. Her goddess leads and she follows without question, and this has been enough... so far."

Surprised, Yasha turned around in her seat to fully face the tiefling."You don't believe in her visions?"

"I believe that the Seer has visions. I believe it may even be that her goddess sends them. I am a being of the planes, however, and I ascribe no infallibility to gods and goddesses."

She crossed her arms and frowned at him. Torm certainly didn't teach his own infallibility. Indeed, that very fallibility was the heart of the Penance of Duty. Still, she couldn't deny that the tiefling's open lack of faith troubled her.

"The Seer believes that you will lead us to victory," he continued, unfazed, "but nothing is said of what such a victory might cost us." He looked at her pointedly once more. "Some costs, I think, are too high."

"Meaning what?" she replied coldly.

"Meaning that the Seer assumes that you are here to help us. I make no such assumption." His stare was still very intense. "I have led these people through every danger so far and kept the Seer safe throughout. I won't see them betrayed."

Yasha turned away, struggling to keep her temper in check. She was not used to being accused of faithlessness, and it rankled. On the surface of Toril, any ally who knew of her faith, of her vocation as a paladin of Torm, trusted her implicitly. Still, if she were in his shoes, she would understand his feelings. He knew nothing about her, after all. How could he even be sure she was what and who she said she was? He was only trying to protect the Seer and the people he had adopted. She remembered also her very recent decision to resist the first impulses of anger. "I admire your dedication," she admitted finally.

"Thank you." His stance did not soften. "But that is why I must have an answer on this."

Yasha scowled at him and shook her head. "You think I would betray them?"

"And why not? You've no loyalty to beholden yourself to the drow or the Seer. For all I know you may see the death of any drow as a good thing."

Yasha shook her head. "If you don't trust me so much, then why are you here?"

"Because the Seer asked me to assist you, and you said you needed that assistance. Why? Have you changed your mind?"

She sighed and turned back around. She planted her elbow on the railing of the boat, and leaned on it heavily, staring out into the darkness around them for a long moment before turning her face back to him. "No. Have you?"

"I said I would help you and I intend to do so faithfully," he said with renewed steel, "but I intend to watch you, as well. I don't trust you, and it is as simple as that."

Simple as that. Crossing her arms, she looked away from him again and frowned sternly at the darkness ahead. Eventually, her insulted anger faded into a rather morose melancholy. The discussion, after all, was just another reminder of how far she was from all she knew and was familiar with, and from any friendly and welcoming face. "Welcome to the Underdark, Yasha," she said to herself. "Why thank you. So happy to be here."

"Boss? You talkings to yourselfs again?"

Her mood lifted somewhat. She turned around and stuck her tongue out at the little kobold. She had at least one friendly face with her, even if it was reptilian, and she would be thankful for that. She would also, she swore, earn this warrior's respect and trust, and thus prove herself above his suspicions. Thus, with a renewed sense of purpose, she settled in to ride out the boat ride over a river of death.


	4. Chapter 4 Revised

Yasha stared down at the bodies of the fallen drow and frowned. Valen had warned her that it was likely that the Valsharess would send people to investigate the island as well, and his judgment had been right on the mark. The entire encampment had attacked them as soon as they had stumbled upon the drow. Most of the bodies of the enemy now lay covered in the blankets she had taken from their camp, lined up in an orderly and stately fashion. Deekin followed her as she worked, holding aloft a small stone that had been enchanted to give off a soft, blue light.

The final body to be covered was one of the Red Sisters, an assassin in the service of the Valsharess. If there was any magic in the bright red armor that had allowed her to blend into the shadows, it was dormant now with its wearer dead. Nathyrra had told her, before Yasha had left the Seer's temple, that at one time she had also been part of this group of assassins. She gloomily wondered what twist of fate had made Nathyrra an ally, and this drow dead by Yasha's blade.

"My lady, if I might ask: why are you doing that?" Yasha turned toward Valen as he spoke. The tiefling stood well back from where she had dragged the bodies, his arms crossed. She couldn't tell from the even tone of his voice if he was voicing disapproval or curiosity. She decided to assume the later.

"It doesn't seem right to leave them lying around like rotting carrion," she replied.

"They would not offer you the same courtesy, were your positions switched."

She looked down at the nameless Red Sister for a moment, before dragging the blanket to cover her. "Perhaps. I'm not them, however."

She stepped back and rubbed her aching shoulder. Her entire left side was throbbing with a dull ache, punctuated by the occasional stabbing pain when she moved her shoulder the wrong way. Grateful as she was to still be breathing, she had certainly not escaped the last battle unscathed. Valen had lived up to his word, however. He had waded among the enemy dealing death with breath-taking efficiency. She tilted her head again, testing the tissue in her shoulder. She would need some healing, soon, but there was one last thing she had to do before then. She drew Duty, slowly and somberly, and saluted the fallen.

"May the gods see your souls safely to their final destinations, wherever those might be." She looked up and down the line of fallen drow, and resheathed her sword. Whether for good or ill, that was as much of a eulogy she could muster for them. They had tried to kill her after all.

"Do you always do that?"

Yasha shrugged, and winced at he pain as she grabbed up her shield and pack. She shook her head once, shifting the weight of her equipment to her right arm as the pain in her left intensified. "I try. There are some times when it isn't really practical."

"Even less practical than the middle of the Underdark?"

She didn't really have anything to say in reply, so she didn't. She ignored his considering gaze as she walked past, and after a moment followed her as she led him and Deekin as far away from the dead drow as the natural cavern permitted. She finally collapsed against a broken stalagmite, propped her shield beside her, and started burrowing in her bag. She pulled out and unrolled a long, narrow bit of leather and cloth, with loops all along on side to slide small potion bottles into. She morosely ran her fingers across the ones that remained.

"Is there some problem, my lady?" Valen asked, the sharp edge of impatience in his voice.

"No," she replied, raising an eyebrow as she looked back up at him. "Are we in so much of a hurry that we can't spare a few moments for consideration?"

"I fail to see what there is to consider. We seem to have plenty of healing potions available. Heal yourself and let us move on."

She pulled one delicate bottle from the center of the roll. Its contents were a pure, brilliant green, and it seemed to shimmer slightly in the light of Deekin's light stone.

"This," she said, holding it up for Valen to see, "is a potion I purchased from a druid in the Anaurach desert. It has very nice spicy-fruity taste. I can even imagine some decadent noble serving it at some party to a guest he truly wishes to impress."

Valen certainly didn't look very impressed. He frowned at her, obviously hoping she would get to the point, and his tail twitched his irritation. Yasha slipped the potion back into its slot then drew one from farther down. The liquid within it was thicker and darker, though it still sparkled in the dim light.

"This I...acquired from the lair of a very unpleasant undead fellow, right after he met a very permanent final end." Yasha smirked up at the impatient tiefling. "It tastes like crap."

Was that her imagination, or did the corner of his mouth twitch a bit?

"And...?" he prompted.

"Well, they are both powerful healing potions, able to quite miraculously cure whatever injuries you might have. I wonder, however, why someone would choose to make such a foul tasting version when a much more pleasant alternative is obviously available. Why would someone Choose to do that? I don't...I don't understand."

Yasha frowned down at the bottle. It wasn't the taste of various healing potions that bothered her, and she knew it. She wasn't sure if she could give voice to her deeper worries. They seemed so melodramatic. He tilted his head at her, narrowing his eyes, and his twitching tail slowed. "That seems like an odd thing to think about at such a time as this," he replied.

She rolled the vial between her hands and hunched a bit. Nathyrra and dozens of drow were her allies. Dozens more drow, including former allies of Nathyrra, were her enemies. She had vowed to put her life on the line to save one, and in the process vowed to slaughter the other. She gripped the vial title for a moment. "It seemed appropriate. What can I say?"

She hurt. She was tired. She was most tired of her own self-pity, however. She was about to break the silence by finally drinking the healing potion when Valen responded.

"Perhaps they feel they have no choice. "

Surprised, she looked up at him, but his face showed no hint that he spoke of anything but the ingredients to healing potions. Yasha opened her mouth to respond, but Deekin interrupted, hissing. "Boss! Look!"

Yasha looked in the direction Deekin pointed, back towards the camp of the Valsharess' followers, reflexively grasping the hilt of her sword at the alarm in his voice. At first, she could see nothing in the deeply shadowed darkness, but then something huge moved at the very edge of her vision. She quickly drew Duty as some creature reached towards the line of bodies in the distance. Was it a tentacle or a claw? Whatever it was snatched a couple of corpses out of the line and faded back into the blackness. Yasha screwed up her face in disgust as she heard the horrible crunching noises that followed.

"What is that?" she demanded, looking at Valen. His clear blue eyes were focused on the far end of the cave, no doubt piercing the darkness better than her brown ones ever could. This time, Yasha was certain she didn't envy the ability to see what was happening.

"One of the many less pleasant denizens of the Underdark, my lady," he replied dryly. He looked at her askance, and then back at whatever it was on the other side of the cavern. Though alert and his tail swished again, he didn't seem alarmed, so Yasha lowered her blade. As the crunching sounds faded a bit, he continued. "You are not very familiar with the Underdark."

It was more of a statement, than a question. Of course, Yasha was not in a position to disagree.

"I've heard mostly rumors," she admitted. "I read a book with very sketchy descriptions of some nasty sounding creatures." She glanced briefly at Deekin, who was still staring intensely at the distant, unseen thing. "And whatever stories Deekin might have to tell, I suppose. That's about it." She looked back at Valen to find his piercing gaze now on her. She lifted her eyebrows, and decided to give another peace offering. "That is why," she continued, "I must depend on you for such things."

He crossed his arms at her words. Little else in his demeanor changed as he returned her frank look, though his tail stopped its swaying altogether to come to rest against his calf. After a few moments, he looked back at the other end of the cave. "This particular creature prefers to feed on carrion. If we don't approach it, it should not attack us. In that, it is fairly rare among the creatures of the Underdark. The first rule for every creature of the Underdark is survival. There are precious few who would not enslave you or make you their dinner... or sell you to one who would." He grimaced slightly. "I've always considered the Underdark to be not unlike the Abyss. In intent, anyhow," he finally added.

"Well, that's a pleasant thought," she replied, ignoring her pain, she bent over and snatched one of the vials of healing liquid from the still open roll. Biting the cork out, she drained its contents and gagged as the bitter liquid washed over her tongue and burned her throat.

"One of the ones that 'tastes like crap'?" Valen asked, amused, as he handed her a canteen.

Yasha winced and nodded, gratefully washing the foul taste out of her mouth with the cool water. The magic was taking effect, however, and her shoulder tingled where the healing repaired the damaged tissue.

Valen's gaze was intent on her as he accepted his canteen back. "The Seer seems to think that you are special enough that we should place our lives in your hands. I wonder if that is wise... I suppose I shall see."

"Deekin places his life in boss' hands," Deekin said, turning towards the two, "and Deekin gots no complaints. But Deekin's life be only really little."

Valen seemed taken aback. "Well, I... I suppose that's something, isn't it?"

Yasha smiled at Deekin, and shook her head as his gaze turned back in the direction of the other side of the cave. She forgot, sometimes, how quietly dedicated the little kobold was. It was sobering. She sat back down wearily, sheathing Duty once more. When he noticed her sit, Deekin quickly sat as well and, pulling a stack of parchment and ink out of his pack, began to scribble notes quickly.

Yasha then rolled her eyes, and motioned at the potion roll. "Do you need any healing, Deekin?"

Pausing in his writing, he blinked up at her a moment, then shook his head. "Deekin is OK, boss. Deekin didn't go charging into the middle of the drow yelling his head off."

Yasha feigned a hurt look. "Are you implying something, Deekin?"

Deekin turned towards her and tilted his head. His eyes flashed in the dim light, despite the clueless tone to his voice. "'Implying something', boss? Deekin not sure what you mean."

"You don't like my new battle cry? I thought I would try something new. 'Get ready to be beaten by a girl' just didn't seem to strike fear into the hearts of my enemies anymore."

Deekin was the soul of wide-eyed innocence when he responded. "Did it used to, boss?"

"Perhaps it merely confused them," Valen suggested.

Despite her attempt to hold the façade of feeling hurt, Yasha felt the beginnings of a grin breaking through, and finally surrendered to a chuckle. She offered a healing potion to Valen then as well. When he shook his head, she tucked them away.

She rolled her shoulder, only to find the pain had not quite receded. Yasha stifled a groan and leaned back against the stalagmite. She would prefer to move on immediately. She wasn't terribly excited to be spending time in the same chamber as whatever that was on the other side, regardless of how much Valen assured her it would not pursue them. However, she knew from past experience it was best to allow the magic of the potions to do their work before exerting herself. She was left to brood and stare up at the distant ceiling while it worked. She focused on resisting the urge to imagine what might be happening to the bodies of her fallen foes. After short time, she squinted upwards at the shadowed ceiling above, then grabbed her Duty and held it slowly aloft. Responding to her will, the holy sword glowed brightly.

Huge bats crowded the rough stone above her, shuffling uneasily against each other at the bright light.

"Odd," she said.

Deekin looked up at her comment and frowned. "What's odd, boss? Deekin knows that there are lots of bats in caves. Big caves would mean big bats, Deekin thinks."

"True," she responded. "But I've been told that bats prefer to lair near the entrance of caves, since they hunt in the surface world." She flinched as the unpleasant noises resumed from the direction of the camp. Against her better judgment, Yasha glanced over in that direction, but saw nothing of the strange creature she knew was there even with the greater light from her sword. She shrugged to herself and looked back up at the bats.

"There is an exit to the surface not far from here that I know of," Valen commented, his voice taunting. He smirked when Yasha looked at him. "We could... search for it, if you wished."

She rolled her eyes. "I can't even comment on the local wildlife with you, can I? Well, I appreciate the offer, but I think I can stand being here. For a bit longer anyway."

The light from Duty died back down to a low, golden hue as she strapped on her shield, grabbed her bag and marched out of the very unpleasant cave and into the tunnel beyond. She frowned at her own irritation. It was not only Valen's apparent desire to see her leave that bothered her. During the combat with the drow she had actually felt the magic of the geas come alive inside her, pushing her onward to slaughter all that stood between her and the Valsharess. She didn't like being pushed to homicide by some insane archwizard's magics. She didn't like the unrelenting darkness that surrounded her. She didn't like the creatures that inhabited that darkness. She most certainly didn't need some smart aleck tiefling taunting her to do what a large portion of her truly desired to do – turn her back on the Underdark and not look back.

Clucking at herself, she lifted Duty so that its amber light lit the low ceiling above her, driving away the flitting shadows. She had told Valen the truth during their talk in the boat. The Penance of Duty called on her to protect any of good faith that asked. Even if it did not, the Seer and her followers were good people who deserved what aid she could give them, and she knew well enough what would happen to the people of Waterdeep were the Valsharess to complete her conquest of this part of the Underdark. And if she felt the desire to earn the respect of the disposed leader of those forces, that only made sense, after all.

She nodded to herself. Focusing solely on the negatives of her situation would get her nowhere. Worse, it would likely get her killed. The best thing to do would be to focus instead on the task at hand, and how to accomplish her goals. She paused, holding her sword ahead of her like a torch as she studied a particularly slippery incline ahead.

"Deekin," she said, picking her way up the slope as best as she could. "What do you know of the avariel?"

The kobold peered up at her from the bottom of the hill. "Deekin knows some stories, boss. Mostly about stupid humans that think they were angels."

She paused in her climb to give him a surprised look, raising her eyebrows.

"Uh," he said, looking embarrassed. "They ARE dragon stories, boss."

She snorted, and turned her attention back to climbing. Bracing her foot firmly against a rock perched along the wall, she pushed herself higher. "Nothing else, then?"

He was silent for a moment. "They're elves. They got wings and fly. They live in mountains. That's all Deekin can think of."

Yasha grabbed a hold of a nearby stalagmite and pulled herself farther upwards. "What about you Valen?"

"I'm afraid I don't know as much about the surface of this world as I might like."

That was certainly very odd phrasing. Yasha paused again with her hand braced against the wall, and after being sure of her footing, looked quizzically down at him. Below her, Deekin had begun his ascent as well, though Valen still stood at the bottom, watching them both climb.

"The surface of 'this world'?" she asked the tiefling.

He nodded. "I mentioned that I was a planar being, did I not, my lady?"

Yasha furrowed her brow at him. She had assumed that his reference to being a planar being involved only his bloodline. It hadn't occurred to her that he was foreign to this world altogether. She turned back to scramble up the last part of her ascent and considered the implications of this. What plane did he hail from? How did he get here and why travel here in the first place? Though distracted, she took some time to verify that nothing awaited them at the top of the hill before looking back at her companions' progress. Deekin was over half way up now, and Valen had also begun his climb. Both were making progress that put her slow, laborious climb to shame. She was trying to find some way to ask the tiefling about his background, even he previously rebuffed her questions, when another voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Aren't you going to ask me?"

Valen looked up at her, alarmed. Yasha rolled her eyes and tapped the sword hilt that stuck up behind her shoulder. Deekin just ignored the new voice and kept climbing.

"I don't know, Enserric. You stopped talking to me."

"Well, you ARE the one that told me to shut up," he said acidly.

"Really?" she replied, her voice saccharine. "How horribly rude of me."

If swords had breath, Enserric would have been grumbling under his.

"Pray tell, Enserric," she said, resuming her watch for problems at the top of the incline, "what you know about avariel, then."

"Well, I don't know a lot about this particular topic. However, I am...errr...was a very learned mage, I'll have you know. You would be a fool not to ask for my input on such things."

She sighed, leaning over to offer Deekin a hand up over the last portion of the climb. From about half-way down, Valen looked up at her.

"You have a talking sword?"

Yasha didn't get a chance to respond to his question.

"She does indeed," the sword intoned, "though she now just straps me to her back and allows me to rot."

Yasha grinned wryly, but resumed looking out into the darkness ahead as she waited for Valen to finish his climb. "Rot, Enserric? I wasn't aware that magic forged steel rotted. Are you quite sure of the quality of your construction?"

"You are the most insufferable paladin I've ever had the misfortune to travel with," Enserric declared grimly.

"Really? How many have you traveled with, I wonder? Still, I don't see why I should consult you on this, as you admitted to not knowing anything about the topic at hand."

"Well, how much do you know about them?"

Yasha nodded at Valen when he topped the slippery rise. He nodded back, though his eyes kept wandering to the hilt she knew poked up over her shoulder. She considered Enserric's question as she led their way further down the tunnel. Drogan had forced her to read many, many books on more kinds of creatures than she believed she would ever meet. They were, as needs be, rather sketchy on details. "Well, I did read a book that mentioned them," she admitted.

"Oh? And did this book read: 'See the winged elf fly. Fly, avariel, fly'?" the sword responded.

She sniffed, holding her Duty up in time to just catch something that looked like a small spider disappearing into a crevice.

"Charming," she said. "I imagine you just had to pry the ladies off of you." She paused, and then added scathingly, "When you were alive."

The whole scabbard on her back vibrated with his growling response. "Very well. What DID it say?"

"Well," she said, picking her way carefully over a gravelly section. "It said much of what Deekin mentioned. Winged elves, native to remote mountainous areas, and often mistaken by the few who see them as angels. In addition, it said they were isolationist, vain, capricious, and unpredictable. Flighty, you might say."

Enserric groaned. Deekin snickered. Yasha glanced back at her companions and was unexpectedly pleased to notice the shadow of a smile on Valen's face.

"They are also, on a whole, said to be very claustrophobic," she added, looking forward again.

"So," the tiefling said from behind her, "it would be unusual for a village of them to relocate to the depths of the Underdark."

"Unusual would be an understatement," she responded, nodding.

"Do you always talk this much when in hostile territory?" Valen added after a few steps.

Yasha looked pointedly at Duty, which shone brightly in the lightless cave. "Subtlety is hardly my strong point."

He acknowledged her point with a nod. "But there are many creatures in the Underdark who use 'subtlety' to great advantage. Listening for them can mean the difference between life and," he paused, his icey eyes glancing at her pointedly, "unpleasant crunching noises."

Yasha glanced back in the direction of the drow camp and grimaced. What was she to say to that? That the talking made the darkness all around less scary? That making light o fthe difficulties helped her face them? THAT would surely garner his respect. She shook her head once at her thoughts, kept her lips closed and continued on.

The passage was beginning to grow larger as the walked. She could no longer see both sides by Duty's light for a while. Finally, it opened up into a huge cavern, and she caught the first glimpse of the mysterious village they had been told about. It was brightly lit, to her relief, and evidently fairly well populated. As they came nearer, however, she realized that things were definitely stranger than she suspected. Though obviously the winged elves they were told to expect, they were surly and bedraggled. Their beautiful white wings were caked with dirt and grime, and they watched the intruders to their village with either hostility or apathy.

Deekin ranged ahead towards what was apparently a merchant square of some sort. Valen turned towards her, eyebrows raised.

"You mentioned they were often mistaken for celestials – angels, as you said?"

Yasha shrugged her confusion ruefully. She had to agree they hardly lived up to the semi-divine status the legends painted them with.

Shaking his head, he started to walk in the direction Deekin had gone, looking at the strange inhabitants curiously. Yasha followed, thoughtful. Again, she was reminded of his planar background. 'Celestials' had been the word he used for angels, and though she was familiar with it, to her it was a strange term. She'd seen the word used in some religious texts or the more arcane books from Drogan's library, but hardly anywhere else. She considered Valen, once more. In the brighter light, his hair seemed more the color of crimson fire than blood, as it had before. He was definitely handsome, though the horns that crowned his head were a keen reminder of where the otherworldly cast to his features originated. Despite the heavy armor he wore, he moved with the powerful grace of a great cat. His tail added to this impression, swaying back and forth languidly as he walked. It twitched, though, as Valen stopped abruptly and turned on her, eyebrows raised, with an unreadable expression on his face.

Yasha came to a stumbling halt. She felt her face grow warm and imagined it would soon rival Valen's hair in its shade of red.

"I wasn't...I was just...that is...uh..." she stammered lamely. She licked her lips as he just tilted his head at her expectantly. No coherent sentences seemed to be able to form in her brain, flail as she might to find one. "I didn't...didn't mean to..."

She looked around desperately, and with great relief caught Deekin's eye as he approached her.

"Umm...Boss?" he said, hesitantly.

"Yes! Yes, Deekin? What!?" She winced at herself as he flinched, taken aback by the vehemence of her reaction. She kept doing that to the poor kobold.

"Errr...Deekin thinks you should come talk to merchant elf. He is acting...odd." From the way he was looking at her, Yasha was sure he was thinking the same thing about her.

"Yes. Good. Uh. Bad." Yasha stopped herself and took a deep breath. She could still feel her cheeks burning from embarrassment. "Let's go talk to him," she said, nearly dragging Deekin off of his feet a she pulled him forward towards the merchant stalls.

Tyr, Torm and Ilmater! What was she thinking getting caught staring at a man's behind?! She growled at herself. What was she doing staring in the first place?

_I wasn't staring at it. I was just looking at his tail._

She had a few moments to wonder if she needed to remember to confess to lying to herself before she arrived at the merchant's stall.


	5. Chapter 5 Revised

By her best estimation, it was nearly an hour later when Yasha crossed her arms and looked down grimly at the shrunken and bent form before her. He was obviously also avariel, like the others they had spoken to, though he was barely taller than a gnome, and his wings would obviously never carry him anywhere without magical assistance. Her initial impressions of him were put aside, for a moment, as he spoke. There was a reason, he explained, for all of the strange things in this town: a proud and claustrophobic people living in squalor deep in the Underdark; merchants who only traded for items of lesser value; and now a court jester named Elicid with more wisdom and knowledge than the most learned sages. That reason could be pretty much summed up in one word.

"Halaster," she growled.

His eyes flashed with understanding. "You're familiar with this archwizard then?"

"We met. Briefly," Yasha huffed. "So he detected your queen spying on him with some magic mirror? I think I can guess what happened next."

Elicid spread his hands at her. "You must understand, the mirror took hold of Shaoir's mind; part of its curse. She wanted to spy on everyone...but yes, when Halaster sensed her spell of scrying, he attacked with powerful counter-magic."

"We knows all about Halaster and what he does to people who get him mad, don't we Boss?" Deekin piped up from beside the paladin.

Yasha rolled her eyes and nodded sourly. "Which seems like nothing compared to what he does to people who attempt to rescue him." It was Halaster's geas which weighed so heavily on her soul, after all. She could hardly forget. The small avariel looked at her curiously, but she shook her head, trying to compose herself. She waved for him to continue.

"He turned the mirror against us," Elicid explained. "Our city - the castle, the temple, the library - was wrenched through the mirror, ripped from our mountain perch and cast down here into the darkness. Everybody pulled through the mirror was twisted into an opposite of their true self. The Queen abandoned her throne," he said, motioning to the empty chair behind him. Then, just as sadly, he tapped himself on the chest. "The fool became all-knowing. The mirror itself shattered, trapping us here."

"It's shattering traps you here?" Yasha asked thoughtfully. "Then if the mirror is somehow fixed..."

"If the mirror is repaired,"he finished, nodding at her train of thought, "then everything will revert back to normal. We will be transported back to the Lost Peaks, Shaori will reclaim her throne and all will be as it should be."

Yasha lifted one gauntleted hand to rub her chin thoughtfully. She pursed her lips and asked, "Then why have you not searched out these pieces and repaired it yourself?"

The avariel sighed, looking frustrated. "I have the mirror frame, but I cannot leave this throne room to gather the pieces. Before, it was forbidden for me to be in here unless Shaori was with me. Now, I cannot leave unless she is here. I need someone to bring me the five missing pieces of the mirror so I can repair it. If you do this, Yasha of Torm, I will give you the mirror. It could be a valuable tool against the Valsharess."

Yasha raised her eyebrows and put her hands to her hips. "How did you know we fought the Valsharess?"

Elicid looked hesitant for a moment, and then clasped his hands before him. "Sabal said as much when she was here. You should know that I've made the same arrangement with her."

Yasha was confused for a moment. Who was Sabal? Obviously alarmed, Valen stepped forward to address the winged elf directly for the first time. "You have agreed to hand this mirror over to the Valsharess' forces as well?"

Elicid sighed, melancholy but apparently quite resolute. "If they bring me the pieces first? Yes."

Yasha sighed, and looked at her companions. Deekin was kneeling on one of the stairs that led up to the throne, still hastily scribbling down the story of Shaori Fell's fall. Valen stood just a few paces behind. His jaw was clenched, and his gaze at the fool was icy. He was, no doubt, thinking the same thing Yasha was; there was now a race to acquire an artifact that could either give the Seer's weakened forces a fighting chance if they claimed it or doom them for sure if they could not. She should have known this would happen. They had fought a drow ambush and waded through a swarm of driders to get to this audience. She had hoped to request some space in the castle to rest. The armor dragged on her shoulders, and she felt the ache of fatigue behind her eyes. It had been a very long day.

_But what did days mean in the Underdark anyway? _she wondered ruefully._  
_

"Then we'll have to find the pieces first," she said aloud, squaring her shoulders and motioning for Deekin to follow. As he gathered up his notes, she turned to Valen. "How hard could it be to find a few pieces of enchanted glass anyway?"

* * *

Yasha winced as they entered the once airy temple of the elven goddess Aerdrie Faenya. What had once been huge, open windows in the walls and ceiling were now draped with heavy strips of cloth, their sickly green and brown hues darkening the room. Vines of some poisonous plant twisted everywhere, grasping at the walls and choking the columns, its thorny stems laden with some dark and deadly fruit. Faintly luminous mushrooms crouched in small pots here and there, giving everything a ghastly pale cast. The cloying stench of sickness and decay hung heavy in the air, though whether it was from some twisted incense or magic Yasha could not tell.

Near the center of the temple, what was once a holy place of light and wind, several columns stood in a great circle around a raised platform. Between them, pale flashes of unholy light danced, turning the dais into nothing more than a great cage. It was a cage that stood ominously empty.

A single figure was near this dais, standing quite still in the flickering light. Yasha's hand clenched around Duty's hilt, but she kept the sword sheathed. She came to talk, if she could.

"And so the heroes entered the dark temple," Deekin whispered from beside her, "wondering what dark creatures lurked in its shadows, what poisonous trap might lay ahead, and if the distant figure had farted and made the air smell so bad."

Yasha snorted with amusement, though the kobold ignored her and seemed intent on taking in every detail of their surroundings. Shaking her head, she marched boldly towards the distant avariel priest. He eyed them confidently as they came, a wicked smile spreading across his face. The paladin slowed as she got close, pursing her lips.

"Let me guess," she said wryly, "you've been expecting me?"

The words were barely out of her lips when it started. A wave of nausea swept through her, and the weariness she felt in the castle turned into a weight of true exhaustion. Her skin flushed with the first fiery touches of what she recognized to be fever. She scowled at the priest, whose eyes glittered with cold calculation.

"You have been touched by Talona, my child. No doubt you can feel the fever raging inside you. The Goddess of Disease and Poison has laid her hands on you."

Yasha felt the eyes of her companions on her, but she was grimly focused on the priest, all lightheartedness gone.

"Whatever you did to me," she snarled, "you better undo right now!"

"I am not the one who has done this to you, though I have the means to remove this sickness. No, it is Talona herself who has laid her mark upon you. My name is Lomylithrar the Rotting. Once I served Aerdrie Faenya, the winged Lady. Now I bow to the Mistress of Poison. As you can see, I have converted this temple to honor my new patron." He motioned calmly at the temple around them, but his eyes stayed fixed on Yasha. "Talona has chosen you for trial. She has infected you with her burning essence, and the only way to be free of this sickness is to prove yourself worthy."

Yasha gritted her teeth at his air of sadistic amusement. She had little doubt he told the truth. Torm's hand protected her from most diseases, but the unholy touch of the Lady of Sickness would be one of the few forces that could so easily breach that defense.

"How, exactly, am I expected to prove myself worthy?" she finally growled.

The priest's smile twisted further. "You must prove yourself in combat. If you are strong enough to survive in battle while infected, then you are worthy of life."

Yasha pressed her lips into a thin line. There were much worse things he could have tried to demand of her. Struggling to keep her outrage in check, she asked, "And if I win the challenge you'll heal me?"

"If you survive the challenge the sickness will be lifted from you. Few survive the trial, but you are very strong. You may surprise me. I am looking forward to watching you in the arena."

"I'm so glad I can offer you some entertainment," she replied acidly. Already, a slow, painful throb had started in her head, echoing each beat of her heart.

"You have little choice. If you do not fight, the illness will destroy you." His eyes narrowed. "But I sense your reluctance, and I want you to be fully committed to the battles. So I will offer you something more."

He reached into his robes, and from some pocket pulled out a small bundle of the same greenish cloth that draped the walls and ceiling. He made a great show of flipping the cloth back, and Yasha could not help but suck in a surprised breath as its contents flashed briefly in the low light.

"If you survive, I will also give you this magical mirror shard. By itself it is not worth much, but if you can find the other pieces you can combine them into a powerful artifact."

She sighed, and licked her lips. That had been what she was hoping to find when she had chosen the large temple to explore. This wasn't exactly the conditions she would have hoped for. Valen drew close and spoke to her, his voice low.

"This is a foolish risk, my lady," he said, shaking his head.

She kept her voice just as low when she responded. "And what is my alternative? Strike him down and take it from him? It is the curse that has twisted this man's mind. I must rescue him from this as much as anything else. I cannot kill him." She gritted her teeth and looked back at the priest, whose face was still twisted in that horrid smile. "I cannot."

She stepped forward, drawing Duty, and raised her voice. "I accept your challenge."

His eyes glittered in smug satisfaction as she spoke. He raised his hands and gestured, and Yasha felt the dark goddess' magic coalesce around her once again. The temple around her shifted, spinning crookedly, and then she found herself in the center of the pillared cage she noted earlier. She tightened her grip on her shield, and ignored the echoing spasm of pain from her stomach.

She had only a moment to get her bearings before a shadow detached itself from the ceiling above. A great spider, its body the size of a pony, hung suspended from a twisted rope of webbing for a moment. It released its grasp, spinning expertly to land on six of its powerful legs. Its front two it held before it like the weapons they were, for they were as hard, sharp and as deadly as the sword Yasha held in her hand. She had seen this spider's like before, and defeated them easily, but this one's hairy skin was patchy and gray, its open sours oozing a putrid stench. A _diseased_ sword spider. Of course.

Yasha braced herself against the renewed wave of nausea that struck her at the creature's sickly smell, even as the thing charged her, chattering angrily.

The spider's forelimbs banged loudly against her shield, echoing in her ears and thundering through her already throbbing skull. She blocked and parried, trying to get in under the sword-like limbs. She swung, and then swung again, but the great spider deftly flinched away and then jumped her blade.

It landed heavily on her shield, trying to press her to her knees with the weight of its body. Its sharpened legs scratched and pounded over her shoulders and against her back, trying futilely to find a chink in her breastplate. Another pair of legs gripped her shield on either side, and she struggled to keep it firmly pressed forward, blocking the spider's dripping fangs as it lurched at her again and again with its rear two legs as leverage. It hardly seemed fair. She only had the two legs, after all.

"Fool spider," she huffed as the poison drip harmless on the floor between them, "I'm already poisoned."

Coiling herself, she waited for the spider to rear back once more in an attempt to get over her defenses. When it did, she struck, but not with Duty. She charged forward, using her shield as a battering ram, and slammed into the spider's abdomen. It screeched in frustration, but with only half of its legs on the floor, it was unable to stop her momentum. It shuddered, its alien screech turning into a squeal of pain as it slammed into the magical barrier. The sickly green light arched like electricity over its body, and its legs curled and twitched, releasing her shield. Yasha stepped backward, wrenching her shield free, but only enough to give herself room to charge once more. Again the spider shrieked as it came into contact with the magical barrier, but this time it twisted, nimbly leaping free of the shield before Yasha could bring Duty to bear.

Still, it staggered when it landed, its legs tangling as it struggled to recover. Yasha didn't give it a chance. Duty leapth in her hand, and she skewered the thing before it could attack again. She shuddered as the magic twisted around her as soon as the killing blow finished the great spider. The room spun again, leaving her blinking in confusion outside the cage.

"Was that it?" she asked. "Have I won?"

The priest laughed viciously. "There is still a long way to go before you are free of the Poison Lady's grasp. Are you ready for the next stage of the trial?"

Yasha closed her eyes. She felt sweat stream between her shoulder blades, and body was trembling from the exertion of the fight with the spider, no matter how short it was.

"How many stages are there?"

The priest considered his answer carefully. "It depends on the strength of the individual in the challenge," he mused. "You must be pushed to your very limits before you can prove yourself."

Valen stepped forward angrily, and his voice was low and dangerous. "We're sick of your games, priest. So quit stalling and answer Yasha's question!"

"You are very powerful. For you, there will be several stages. Five, I think... though I cannot say for sure. Not that you have a choice if you wish to be free of this affliction."

Yasha sagged a bit. She could feel the sickness in her blood, sapping the strength from her limbs. If she was to survive this, she must finish it quickly. She drew herself back up and motioned towards the cage with Duty. "The next trial then, Lomylithrar."

She kept her eyes on his macabre grin until the magic clouded her vision. Then she was in the fighting arena once more.

Duty flashed with holy fire as a sickly green mist collected along the floor in one corner. It swirled and thickened, hiding the stone below it. Then a clawed hand burst free of it, and another. The claws scrabbled for purchase along the rock as the creature pulled itself from the mist. It was humanoid this time. Indeed, perhaps it was human at one time, though now undeath and disease and warped it so it was hard to tell. It slavered and bared its teeth when it caught sight of her, hissing hungrily.

Yasha gagged as the ghoul's stench struck her, and she nearly dropped Duty in an effort to protect her nose with her gauntleted hand. She shook her head, but the motion merely made the nausea worse. She hissed back at the thing, and her hand moved down from her face to grasp the holy symbol that hung from her neck.

"By Torm's Might!" she called. For a moment, the divine essence filled her, blocking the burning of the fever with its cool power, and easing the sickness that clenched her abdomen. She had only a moment's respite before she released the energy in a bright flash of light.

The ghoul shuddered as the raw divine power washed over it, clawing and slapping at its skin as if to rid itself of some burning fire. Gasping for breath, Yasha raised Duty before her, praying earnestly to Torm for yet more aid. With relief, she saw a golden fire join Duty's normal white flames. She held the roaring sword before her for a moment, watching the ghoul still yowling from the effects of her turning. Then she charged, and the doubly burning sword sliced through the undead creature, immolating it in one quick blow.

The room spun once more, and Yasha fell to her knees as the nausea gripped her. She swayed, pressing Duty's tip against the cold floor to keep her from falling completely.

"Boss?" Deekin's wavering voice said from somewhere to her right. "Is you OK? Deekin has seen orcs less green than you are right now."

Yasha chuckled weakly. She turned her head and slowly focused on the face of her concerned friend.

"I'll be fine, Deekin." She sucked in a deep breath, then pulled herself back to her feet.

The priest laughed out loud. "You feel My Lady's touch on your skin, do you not? The fire of her essence in your blood? How many more do YOU think you can survive?" he taunted.

"As many as it takes," Yasha said slowly. She felt oddly disconnected, and it was a struggle to form the words. No doubt the fever was clouding her mind. She lifted Duty heavily and pointed it at the priest. "The more sadistic and cruel you act, the more caring and good-hearted you are. I will save you yet."

The priest wrinkled his nose and frowned at her for the first time. "Save me? You're babbling."

Yasha let her arm fall heavily back to her side. "I don't have to make sense," she said thickly. "I just have to win. Send me back."


	6. Chapter 6 Revised

Yasha gritted her teeth to keep them from chattering. First a another spider, and now a second ghoul had fallen before her sword, but the last had died more from the divine fire that still licked her blade than any force she could put behind her swings. She braced herself when the now familiar force of the teleportation magic gripped her again. Everything faded to gray. Light did not return to her vision, however.

The world around her fell into deep shadow. She recognized this blasted, colorless plane. She knew well eerie signs of being stalked by creatures she could only see out of the corner of her eye. She shuddered at the familiar feel of hostility from every branch, blade and living creature that she passed. She felt their hunger for her; their desire to drain her of her life and very vitality. Reflexively, she recited the Litany of Graces as she had some many times before.

"_Let the Flame of Hope live in my heart."_

Her voice was weak in her own ears. Even Duty's bell-like song sounded muffled and distant.

"_It is the Song that fills the Silence."_

The colorless plane faded to black on every side. Everything wavered.

"_It is the Light that drives back the Darkness."_

She felt hollow. Exhausted. Every pulse of the holy blade filled her with a brief surge of divine power, but each wave left her filling empty once more after it passed. She had no strength of her own left to call upon.

_"I shall keep Hope in my heart, for it will give me strength when my strength fails me."_

"Yasha!"

She squinted. There was green before her. It was a brilliant emerald blur where no color should be. She smelled smoke and metal and a not unpleasant musky odor. This had never happened before.

"My lady, you must wake up."

She struggled to move, blinking quickly. Now she saw the clear blue of summer's morning sky. Another voice joined the first.

"Ummm...boss?"

She blinked again. The blasted landscape was truly gone, but she still could not place where she actually was. Through her armor, Yasha felt a firm grip on both her upper arms. Concentrating, she forced her eyes to focus. Slowly the lines of Valen's sternly concerned face swam into view. She sighed heavily when she recognized him, remembering where she was and what she was doing. She wasn't certain whether or not to be relieved. Her head fell forward once more, and she let it rest for a long moment against the cool green of the tielfing's armor. The chill of it seemed to seep some of the feverish ache away, if only for a moment.

"He'll never give you the cure, Yasha!" Valen whispered urgently. "This challenge is just a trick. Let us kill him now and claim the cure he claims he has while you yet survive."

She shook her head, and tried to swallow. Her mouth and throat were both dry, however, and she could not find her voice to speak. She started to raise her arm to rub her face and noted in amazement that she still somehow gripped Duty with her sword hand. She was still standing. Well, in a manner of speaking. Valen's grip on her shoulders kept her standing. Valen's iron grip relaxed as she forced her legs to support her own weight again. With a grimace, she pushed herself free of his support, turned and walked towards the priest once more.

The priest had a sly smile on his face as she approached. "I see now why Talona chose to test you - you are very strong. Even racked with illness you have completed this stage of the trial. There is only one stage left, though I wonder if you will be able to survive it. The pallor of disease colors your skin and the sweet stench of the rotting grave is in your breath."

Yasha snorted. Her voice was ragged and hoarse when she replied, "Next time I visit a temple of Talona, I'll remember to bring some mints."

The priest's eyes narrowed as he watched her. "You have come farther than most, but Talona's Fever has ripped away your strength and power. You are a shell of what you once were. I doubt you can survive the final trial."

"I'm touched," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "Really. But don't worry about me. You just remember to live up to your end of the bargain."

"I won't betray you. Though you can't really be sure, can you? The fever is in your brain, your thoughts swim in confusion. The trial drains your very spirit, and you are falling into doubt and despair."

She frowned at him. The decision to risk this challenge in order to spare his life certainly seemed more and more foolish, especially when she considered that she trusted the word of a curse-twisted mind. Did Valen's words not ring true now? Or had she already doomed herself to die from this foul disease? Not exactly a noble end for a questing paladin.

"Many think Talona can only affect the body," the priest continued, clasping his hands behind his back, "but now you understand she attacks the mind and spirit as well. Now you understand her true power. But will this help you survive the final stage? If you turn to her and beg for mercy, she might relent. You have proven yourself quite powerful already, perhaps she can be persuaded that your trials are over if you do so."

Yasha heard a low growling sound, and it took her a moment to realize it came from her own parched throat.

"No, Lomylithrar." Her swollen lips stumbled over the elven name, and Duty's call sounded in her ears so loudly she could barely hear her own voice. "I have one more trial to beat, and I will do so in Torm's grace. Return me to the...the cage, and let us...let us get this over with."

He sneered back at her. "As you wish."

She closed her eyes once within the arena once again. She suspected that it was only the magic of her strength enhancing gauntlets that kept her from collapsing under the weight of her own armor. "Guaranteed to give you the strength of a mighty ogre" the merchant had said when she bought them. She wondered if she had more strength than a kitten, at the moment. She imagined wrestling a kitten, it's fluffy fur against her skin and tiny, needle nails piercing her as it forced her to the ground. Gritting her teeth, she shook her head and tried to focus. The priest was right that she was having trouble thinking, if she could let her mind wander so oddly before a life or death fight.

Struggling to concentrate, she took a deep breath, ignoring the spasm of pain in her stomach when she did so. If the pattern held, she would next fight another spider. She frowned. The divine blessing on her sword would do little to help her in such a battle. She would need to strike quickly if she was to win at all, though her arms felt leaden. Her mind reviewed the spider's lightning quick lunges and poisonous bite, and she failed to imagine herself being able to block them, let alone being able to counter with a killing strike of her own.

She could not let this disease eat away at her mind. Already her vision darkened again. If she lost her grip on reality once more, her fate would not be limited to the indignity of having to be propped up by a companion. To her surprise, the darkness before her vision didn't disperse. Instead, it began to coalesce, slowly forming a towering figure. Pinpoints of red light flickered open in the depths of its shadowy face. Despite the fever that wracked her body, her blood turned cold.

It was a shadow fiend.

It snarled at her; a hissing, otherworldly echo of a sound. Flexing its newly formed claws, it half glided forward on insubstantial legs.

Yasha retreated. To her shame, Duty wavered in her trembling hand. She struggled to find the strength to hold her ground, but the shadowy creature brought too many memories to bear.

_Briars and branches clawed at her, pinning her down as she scrambled to get away._

She shook her head, trying desperately to clear it. She was NOT back in the Shadow Planes. She was NOT.

_She twisted as she felt its cold claws dig into her leg. Its very touch bled the life and warmth from her, even as it dragged her towards its gaping maw. It towered over her, its massive wings blotting the pale gray sky._

She felt firm stone against her back. The magic of the cage crackled in her ears, and filled her nose with its electric odor. She had miraculously backed into one of the columns, and not to her death against the cage's energy barrier. A familiar iciness seeped into her bones as the fiend slid its arm right through her shield and buried its claws into her arm.

_There was no one to hear her scream of agony as it sank its teeth, as large as swords, into her chest. There was no one to grieve when her scream died into a strangled, breathless gurgle, and she felt her heart falter and stop._

She blinked as the fiend's shadowy form pushed through and around her shield. It was so near that the air around her sweating face chilled unnervingly. Out of the corner of her eye, a figure moved outside the cage, but she could not drag her eyes away from the creature before her.

"Boss!? Boss! You is not going to let it just eat you?! What kind of ending that give to Deekin's epic book?"

Yasha gasped out a strangled laugh, that sounded suspiciously like a sob to her own ears. She couldn't help herself. What kind of ending, indeed. She was not alone this time, nor would she die running from a shadow creature. Not now. Not again. This was different. It would be.

Her first swipe was weak, but the renewal of her will brought the white and golden flames on Duty back to life. The shadow, surprised at the resistance, hissed and staggered back as the doubled divine fires seared it. When it retreated, something within Yasha flared back to life. She snarled her defiance, beyond thought, only knowing that she had the strength to fight back against THIS darkness. She blindly swung her sword again. The momentum caused her to stagger, as the sword barely slowed as passed through the incorporeal shadow. Her flaming blade had its effect, however, and the shadow fiend's hollow howl of pain and outrage echoed off of the walls of the temple. She gave herself no time to think, doubting could even think if she tried, and the fiend no time to react. She spun with the momentum and drove hard at the shadow again with as much power as she could summon. Duty sang with power as she sliced down and though the fiend once more.

Its shadowy form tore into wisps and started to fade even as Duty slammed into the ground. The ringing sound of Duty's impact on the stone floor and the fiend's last hissing cry thundered through Yasha's head, as she fell heavily to the floor, brought down by the momentum along with her blade. The links of chainmail on her arms bit into her forehead as she crouched on her knees and forearms. She felt the floor shift beneath her, and after a few rasping breaths she lifted her head to see the priest once more.

"And so, even the proud eventually bow to the Lady of Disease."

Yasha glared up at the winged elf for a moment before struggling to her feet. She trembled, her breath still coming in heaving gasps. Indeed, it was only her pride that kept her upright now. Valen marched forward to stand beside her.

"She has passed your trials, priest," he demanded. "Hand over the cure and shard, or I swear I will kill you and take what we came for."

The priest smiled wanly at Valen's threat, raising his hands in mock surrender. He turned to Yasha once again. "Poison and disease kill the unworthy, they cull the weak and leave only the strong behind. By surviving Talona's trial you have proven yourself worthy of life." The priest bowed in a show of respect.

Yasha hoped he would understand that she did not feel up to returning the courtesy.

"You have earned the reward I have promised you." He walked over to a nearby pillar. Opening a hidden compartment, he pulled out a small, golden vial and offered it to her. "This artifact can cleanse your spirit of Talona's Fever."

Yasha struggled to examine the artifact carefully as she accepted it. Both elegant and delicate, the patterns that played across its surface seemed designed to suggest the blowing wind or wispy clouds. Or perhaps it just looked that way through blurred vision. She sensed no lingering evil on it either, though she had just enough presence of mind to wonder if she could even if it were it there. Still, something inside her felt confident that this was no magic of Talona's making.

Hands shaking, she fumbled with the top until it came free. A light, oily substance clung to the applicator. She glanced once at the still smugly smiling priest, then touched the oil to her tongue. It tasted light and flowery. She swallowed, and instantly her throat lost its sore ache, and the cramps in her stomach subsided. Taking a full dose from the vial proper, the pain began to dissipate quickly. She took a deep breath, relieved. Valen, who was watching her reaction carefully, seemed relieved as well. Deekin let out a little squeak of excitement from somewhere out of her vision.

The priest then offered the mirror shard to her. "But I hope you take a lesson from this experience as well. Pestilence and poison make us weak, but they also reveal strength. Only those who are worthy survive, while those unworthy are swept away."

"I'm afraid," she said, her voice regaining its strength as she quickly plucked the shard from his hands, "that I've learned no such lesson. But Master Drogan always said I could be a willful and hard-headed student when I chose to be."

Deekin wandered up beside her, peering at their prize. "It doesn't look very impressive, boss. You sure it's worth it?"

She smiled first at Deekin, then at the priest gleefully. As Deekin noted, the mirror shard didn't look very impressive, but she held it aloft anyway, savoring her triumph. "I'll find a good use for it. I promise you."

She sobered a moment, and finally returned the priest's bow before motioning the others towards the door. She wanted to make sure they left this cloying place before a similar curse descended on any of her companions.

She peered around the dark cavern as they exited the temple. Sweat dried on her quickly cooling skin, and her mouth felt pasty. Finally she thought she heard what she was searching for. "I'll be right back," she told her companions, before walking quickly towards the sound of trickling water. It led her away from the lights of the avariel village, but Duty lent her enough light to find it. She stopped before a small stream of water that slid down the walls of the cavern, and collected in a pool that shimmered in the light of her blade.

The shimmering died down as she sheathed Duty once more. Only the dimly reflected light from the distant village reached here. Kneeling beside the pool, she pulled her gauntlets from her hands. Her armor weighed heavily on her as the magical strength left, but she shrugged it off. It was nothing compared to what the Fever had just done to her, after all. She dipped her hands into the icy water of the pool. Cupping her hands, she brought some up to her face and sniffed it carefully. It held no foul smell, so she sipped it as well. Sighing, she savored the feel as the cool water traveled down her throat, rinsing it clean.

She dipped her hands into the water again and stared down at the water in her hands. In the low light, it was dark, like a solid chunk of cold shadow. She grunted, disgusted at herself, and tossed it back down. She stared down at the water a moment before gripping the sides of the pool and dunking her whole head into the frigid pool.

It was bitterly cold, but she certainly felt refreshed as she pulled herself back out, gasping for air. She tossed her head back and smoothed her hair from her face.

"Boss, why is you sticking your head in the water?"

She looked over at Deekin. She had known he would follow her, even if she did say she would be right back.

"Because I felt icky, Deekin."

"'Icky', boss?" he tilted his head and looked at her curiously.

"Yes. Icky. Dirty. Disgusting."

"Unclean," Valen added, walking slowly up from behind them both. Yasha pursed her lips and blinked that last of the water from her eyelashes before nodding. Unclean. That was exactly it. From the evil curse, from the memories it had torn to the surface of her thoughts, and from the terror that had nearly killed her. Unclean was exactly the word.

"Right. Unclean," she met Valen's piercing gaze for only a moment before turning back to Deekin. She doubted it was a coincidence he had suggested it. She found she couldn't meet Deekin's eye either, and turned her attention back to the pool of water. "I mean, a priest of Talona just told me I smelled bad. To me, that suggests I need to do some serious washing up."

Deekin shuffled forward, sniffing. "Well, you hasn't changed your clothes in a while, boss, though Deekin was pretending not to notice."

Yasha rocked back on her heels and laughed, squeezing out the water from her hair. "Thanks so much, Deekin."

He shrugged and turned back to the pool. "No problem, Boss."

Frowning thoughtfully, she tried to sneak a sniff at her armor. She blushed when she caught Valen's eye and noticed his raised eyebrows. Deekin moved to kneel beside the pool, so Yasha stepped back to give him room and snickered as he dunked his head in. She grabbed her gauntlets and pulled herself to her feet. Valen watched her, impassive.

"It was surprising when the priest chose to send a shadow against you in that last combat."

Nodding, she shrugged wordlessly. She focused on slipping her chilled fingers into the enchanted gloves.

"Perhaps he had some reason to make that choice?"

Yasha looked at Valen. His gaze was clear and even, and she had no doubt where his question was headed.

"Perhaps he did," she replied cautiously. He watched her, waiting for her to add something to her response. When she did not, he continued.

"The kobold spoke of a time when you were in the Shadow Plane. Would it be related to that, perhaps?"

Yasha sighed, and looked away from him. Trust that this tiefling would be both observant and clever. She supposed he must be to have led the Seer's forces. She wasn't inclined to reward it, at the moment. She frowned down at Deekin, who was now squealing about the temperature of the water. Forcing herself to smile, she pulled her cloak off, and tossed it over his head. "Get dry, Deekin, we have more broken glass to fetch," she reminded him lightly.

Finally, she turned back to Valen. "If you ever feel like satiating my curiosity about where you're from and how you got here, let me know. Maybe we can swap stories."

He blinked, taken aback at her response. She used his hesitation to walk back towards Deekin. Grabbing her cloak from the soggy kobold, she pulled it back around her shoulders, and led them back towards the village.

"Where to now, then?" Valen asked, ignoring the unfinished conversation.

Yasha sniffed. Over the smell of damp kobold, sweaty paladin now wafting off of her cloak, she also caught a whiff of smoke.

"The library. Smells like someone's burning books."


	7. Chapter 7 Revised

The avariel snapped smartly to attention as they entered the library. "Hold on just a second. You can't go in there - this library is a public place! Come back when we're closed."

Yasha sighed. It was going to be another one of those conversations.

"That doesn't make any sense," she replied, trying to sound reasonable.

What followed was an utterly illogical story, as befitted this cursed town. He told her of his wife, a beautiful librarian turned to a book burning medusa, and himself, her adoring husband now protecting everyone from her. As much as Yasha wanted to reason with him, every time the elf started to be lucid in his replies, he would cringe in pain, and return to his irrational declarations.

Yasha rubbed her temples. She wasn't sure if it was the after-effect of Talona's Fever or just plain exhaustion, but she was getting a bear of a headache. He had just finished telling her once again that she could not pass when she dug into her belt pouch and showed him the magical shard she had won from the temple.

"We're looking for a piece of glass rather like this. Have you seen one?"

He narrowed his eyes at it. For a brief moment, his eyes flickered once again with lucidity. "Yes, my wife had one just like that when I talked to her."

"Of course she would have it," Yasha groaned, unexcited about dealing with the medusa. At times she felt her joints were still stiff from the last time she had to deal with one. Then she gave the elf a sharp look. "You spoke to her after she became a medusa? How?"

He answered with a sarcastic laugh. "That's the great joke of all this. My wife became a mad medusa, and her make-up was transformed into a potion that allowed me to safely gaze upon her. There is powerful magic at work here. Magic that likes to twist and taunt us... unh!"

His words were cut off as he doubled over in pain. Yasha flinched in sympathy. She was beginning to be sorry she tried to get reason out of the poor man, as it caused him so much agony to fight the curse. Still, after a second, he composed himself again. "In the room in the southern side of the library - the room I once shared with my wife - there is a potion that allows you to look upon her without fear of being turned to stone. But the effect is temporary and the potion is almost gone. That's why I stay out here. That, and the fact that Quathala has lost much of her sanity. It isn't safe to deal with her."

Yasha stared back at the man for several moments, rubbing her chin thoughtfully.

"And you won't let us pass," Yasha confirmed.

When the avariel nodded grimly, she turned to give Deekin a meaningful look. The kobold sat his pack down, and was slipping the lute from his back when she looked back at the elf. He saw this as well and narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but he shifted them back to Yasha when she spoke again.

"I need that shard, unfortunately," she told him matter-of-factly. Putting her hands behind her back, she squeezed them together quickly twice before leaving them loosely clasped. She kept her eyes firmly on the avariel the whole time, however, and trusted Deekin to have noticed.

"And I will not let you in until the library is closed," he replied grimly.

Yasha nodded to herself, even as Deekin began to pluck at his instrument. "Then I will apologize to you in advance for what I must do."

Alarmed, the elf reached for his weapon. Yasha brought her hands from behind her back and held them up and away from her.

"I will defend myself if you attack, but I have no intention of harming you or your wife. Please believe that," she assured him sincerely.

He hesitated, then released his sword. "Then what...?"

At that moment, Deekin's lute reverberated with a single note. It was a harsh and jangling sound, and filled the air with the tingle of magic. The librarian's husband never finished his sentence.

Yasha paused a moment, making sure the spell took effect. Elves were notoriously tough to catch with spells like this. When he made no further move, she turned to Deekin.

"Good job." He grinned at her and nodded as he pulled his lute back over his back. Yasha walked forward and frowned as she approached the magically held elf. His head was still tilted, and his lips parted in the middle of his curious question. She looked at the ground for a moment, feeling rather ashamed at herself, before meeting his frozen stare. "Again, I am very sorry."

Then she stepped right past him.

The doorway into the main part of the library was choked with a thick, clinging smoke. Flakes of papery ash floated throughout the air, still glowing a dull red from the flames they had recently escaped. Yasha pulled her cloak up over her face, and crept up to the corner. Above the crackling of a distant fire, she thought she heard a faint hissing noise, but it was brief and almost indistinct. The southern wall was, conveniently, one of those adjacent to the doorway. Bookshelves were pushed perpendicular to the edges of the main room, but the center was open and empty. No doubt the librarian had already burned anything that might have once been there. Squinting through the smoke and the gaps in the shelves, she thought she could just make out a doorway in the middle of the south wall, but whoever went to fetch that potion would have to walk through part of the main open area and be exposed to sight. The paladin squatted down by the entrance, trying to avoid the worst of the smoke while she considered their next move.

Valen made a small sound of disgust as he knelt beside her. "The stench of smoke and ash in this place is enough to make one gag!" he growled, though he kept his voice low.

Yasha nodded at him. Her own eyes were already stinging fiercely, and it was all she could do to smother a cough that might give them away before they could secure that potion.

"I think I saw the door," she said as soon as Deekin joined them. "But someone will have a trick sneaking in to get it. Sneaking isn't my strong point, I'm afraid."

"Nor mine,"Valen replied.

They both looked at Deekin. He returned the look, eyes shifting between the two, before nodding at Yasha. "Deekin has an invisibility spell, boss."

She grinned at him over the edge of her cloak. She knew he would volunteer, despite the danger. Shrugging off her packpack, she dug through it until she found a small sack. Then she dropped that on the floor and, letting her cloak drop from her face, started rummaging through that as well.

"Just keep in mind, Deekin," she said, pushing her arm in nearly to her shoulder to feel around the magical space within the bag, "that she doesn't need to see you for her to turn you to stone. You just have to see her. Keep your eyes away from her and on your objective."

The kobold wrinkled his nose as he laid his pack gently on the floor. "Deekin remembers, boss," then he looked up at her with a frown. "Traveling with you is funs, boss, but Deekin is hoping for less stone turnings this time. That not so fun."

"I remember last time too, Deekin," Yasha replied, finally finding by touch what she had been searching for. She brought out a brown canister, its stony sides engraved with snarling basilisks and wild haired medusas. Deekin's eyes lit up with relief when he saw it. Beside her, Valen leaned forward to get a closer look at the bottle.

"This is a magical cure for being turned to stone, then?" he asked quietly.

Yasha nodded, offering the bottle for him to see. "There should be about six or seven doses left. I hope that would be enough, anyway, if things go bad."

Deekin readied his lute, his fingers twitching silently over the strings in a nervous gesture Yasha recognized as a sign of worry. She laid a hand on his shoulder.

"If you run into any trouble, just give a whistle and we'll be there to back you up," she told him quietly.

His fingers paused and he turned his head sideways to look at her mischievously for a moment. "You mean like this, boss?"

Yasha's arm snapped up and her leather-clad hand wrapped his muzzle closed as soon as he began to pucker up. She brought her face down close to him, her nose nearly touching his snout, and tried to look serious. "I know you know how to whistle, Deekin. We're trying to be quiet, remember?"

Under her fingers, his thin mouth curled up into a grin. She shook her head at him, still smothering a matching smile, and let go.

As soon as she had backed off, his fingers hovered over the strings of his lute once more. Carefully he started strumming them, and the lute responded with a quiet, quivering set of notes to his light touch. He hummed a bit, under his breath, and the two sounds matched and joined. The electric feel of magic jumped in the air once more.

And then he was gone.

Yasha wrinkled her nose and stared for a minute at where he had been. No matter how many times she saw it, watching someone turn invisible always seemed so strange to her.

"You two have faced a medusa before, I take it? And the kobold was turn to stone last time?"

She looked briefly at Valen, then dropped her gaze sourly to the bottle she held in her hands. "She was both a medusa and a powerful sorceress. Unfortunately, I only knew about the later, though in hindsight I suppose there were plenty of clues as to her true nature. We went to confront her, and I led us into a trap. It was...not my finest hour." She looked back at him wryly, trying not to act too embarrassed. "We were both turned to stone."

He raised his eyebrows and tilted his head curiously. "You had to be rescued then?"

Yasha grimaced. "Rescued? That's one word for it I suppose. Some desert dwelling lizard folk found us. They thought we were ancient statuary, and that we might fetch a good price from collectors. Their chief knew better. He decided I could have...other uses. Therefore, he snapped a slave collar around my neck before curing me."

Valen frowned darkly. "A slave collar? Surely you didn't accept this once you were flesh again."

He laid an armored forearm over his bended knee, his eyes fixed on her in rapt attention. Yasha, for her part, felt a tingling pleasure at this admittedly flattering amount of interest, though she tried to shrug the feeling off. This was merely a good chance to gain some measure of his respect.

"I did not," she assured him dryly. "I told him where he could stuff this slave nonsense, and when he still claimed...ownership of me, I decided to show him the error of his ways more forcefully. The result was..." she paused, and raised her fingers to her throat at the memory. "Well, it was rather shocking. After I came back to consciousness for the third time, I decided to ask what he would demand of me." She half smiled at him. "To be honest, I was somewhat fortunate."

His tail lashed once, sweeping across the ashy stone floor with an agitated hissing noise. "You found it fortunate that you were enslaved?" he growled.

Yasha glared at him. "Hardly." She snorted softly once, both to clear the smoke from her nose and to express her annoyance at his inexplicable, angry reaction. "It so happened that they had brought me to the same ancient ruins that Heurodis, the medusa that had trapped us in the first place, had gone. His commands were simple: enter the heart of the ruins, defeat the guardians I encountered, and return with any powerful magic I found. Since my plan was to enter the ruins, defeat any guardians I encountered, and find Heurodis, I decided to cooperate for the moment. There were many worse things he could have demanded of me. Or tried to demand, at any rate."

Valen's face softened, but only a little. He looked through the doorway into the main library, though whether he was looking for signs of Deekin or just lost in thought, Yasha could not tell.

"I could not take action against him directly, unfortunately, but I would not have cooperated had he tried to force me to do anything else," she continued, following his gaze. There was, as she suspected, no sign of Deekin's passage, even through the swirling smoke the choked the room. His invisibility spell still held him safe, or so she hoped.

"You obviously are free of the collar now, however," he said finally, looking back at her.

"I am. The collar ceased to function at his death," she replied, returning his gaze levelly.

"Yet you could not confront him directly. Did you poisoned him?"

Yasha's nostrils flared as she sucked in an offended breath, only to have to stifle a sudden sneeze. She clutched her cloak up to her face until the urge had passed, then grimaced up at Valen. "I did no such thing." She shrugged. "I dropped a city on him."

Valen lowered a brow and looked at her dubiously. "Figuratively speaking?"

Yasha shook her head, her mood lightening once more. "No, no. Quite literally. The ruins were an ancient flying city, you see. Heurodis had used a stolen artifact to power it, intent on using it as a base to conquer my homeland. When I faced her, I destroyed the artifact." She looked down at the floor, suddenly very grateful that it was both solid and unmoving beneath her feet. After a moment she looked back up at Valen in grim satisfaction. "He died on impact. Or shortly thereafter, perhaps."

Valen shook his head. "Then how did you and the kobold survive?"

Yasha winced and shrugged. "That would have been the blind jump into the Shadow Plane I mentioned before," she admitted. He still watched her with that curious intensity, and Yasha felt the beginnings of an embarrassed flush warm her neck. She tilted her head at him, and continued, "But that story I'm saving for trade, remember? No more free stories out of me."

Valen blinked at her. He opened his mouth once more, and by his expression was clearly about to protest, when Deekin's popped into existence between them. Both Valen jumped back in surprise, and Yasha lost her balance and teetered over onto her backside before she could catch herself.

"Boss," the kobold groaned, "How is Deekin supposed to make a living if you keeps telling the stories for free?"

From her new perch on the floor, she smiled at the bard. "I'm sorry, Deekin. I thought since you had already written the book, it was safe to repeat. I'll try to be more considerate in the future." She sobered quickly, though. "Did you find the vial?"

Deekin replied with a toothy grin and handed her a small vial full of a milky white liquid.

"Good!" She examined the intricate vial carefully for a moment. Though she had been told that some of the finer ladies in Waterdeep used such make-up when attending public affairs, she had never seen a bottle of it herself. Still, it appeared to be the right thing, and there was very little left, just as the avariel at the door had said. She glanced quickly over at the held elf. He seemed still frozen in place, though she wasn't sure for how much longer the spell could possibly hold him. There would be little time for second guessing.

She unscrewed the top, and drank about half of what was left. "Ugh. It tastes like chalk," she complained, smacking her lips in disgust. She looked at it suspiciously after a moment, as she only felt a small amount of tingling in her throat where she had swallowed it. "Do you think I was supposed to drink it or apply it to my face?"

Deekin shrugged when she looked at him, and Valen merely replied, "The man said it was a potion. Potions are normally drunk, I suppose."

Yasha sighed, then handed the bottle to the tiefling. "Well, if it doesn't work, you can try the other way."

"Right," he replied dryly.

After a moment's thought, she also left the curative on the floor between the two of them before standing. She squinted through the heavy pall of smoke before her.

"Good luck, boss!"

She winked down at Deekin before striding purposefully through the doorway. The librarian turned medusa was actually fairly easy to spot, as she hovered over a huge, smoldering bonfire near the center of the room. She was just tossing another tome onto the fire when Yasha approached and cleared her throat. "You are the head librarian here, I presume?"

The woman turned her eyes on her, and Yasha saw them flash briefly as their gazes locked. For a moment, she felt a tightening in her throat at the fierce memory of the last time she had seen such a thing. She did not feel, however, her blood congealing in her veins, nor the painful panic as her lungs struggled to expand in one last breath. Despite the smoke, she risked a deep, relieved sigh.

For her part, the medusa didn't seem to be even aware of the sudden nervousness in her guest. Indeed, she appeared quite calm and friendly. The snakes that tangled like hair on her hair hissed at Yasha, though they seemed only to reflect their mistress' curious attention.

"Yes, I'm in charge here," the medusa said. "Hello and welcome to the library. My name is Quathala. I'm sorry, but as you can see the books can't be checked out right now. I have to burn them."

Yasha looked down at the cinder and ash pile that had obviously once been a majority of the tomes in the library. She was tempted to ask why the librarian was burning them, but felt fairly certain that she would receive no more coherent or meaningful answers than she had received from this poor woman's husband.

"I'm looking for pieces of a broken mirror," Yasha replied instead.

"You're looking for broken mirror pieces? That's rather odd, isn't it? I'm half mad and even I know a broken mirror is bad luck. Of course, I do have a mirror shard of my own..."

The medusa looked down, and pulled out a small shard of glass from her vest. Yasha's heart skipped a beat. It looked very familiar.

"I've seen my own reflection in this mirror shard," the medusa continued sadly. "I know what I've become."

The woman's momentary, depressed lucidity made Yasha's heart ache. The poor woman was aware of her curse then. No wonder she acted half-crazed.

"I thought I could turn myself to stone," the medusa sighed. "But it didn't work. Maybe because the mirror is broken. I don't know. Now I keep the shard with me to remind me of what I've become. It seems a bit... unhealthy, but I can't help myself."

"Maybe you should give the mirror shard to me," Yasha suggested quietly.

The medusa's scaly hand snapped closed protectively over the shard. "I'm not just going to give my mirror shard to you. It isn't worth much, but it does have some sentimental value for me." The medusa's expression turned odd, and the glint of madness added an even more terrifying element to her gaze. "Maybe we could play a game for it."

Yasha frowned. A game? No, if she was to acquire this piece without bloodshed, she felt he must try to appeal to the last bits of sanity left in the poor woman. Encouraging this craziness might only lead to violence.

"You don't need a constant reminder of what you've become," Yasha told her, putting every ounce of calm reason she could muster into her voice. She tried desperately to project, somehow, the compassion and sympathy she felt for the elf trapped in this monstrous form. Somehow she must reach that woman. "You should really give the mirror up."

To the paladin's relief, the frightening glint in the woman's eyes dimmed once more. "Maybe... maybe you're right. Maybe I'm dwelling too much on what I've become. It's enough to... well, to drive a woman mad."

Yasha smiled sadly at her.

The medusa held out her hand. "Here, take the mirror shard."

"Thank you," Yasha replied, accepting the magical glass. Yasha locked her gaze once more onto the lethal one of the librarian, and saw the shadow there of the learned librarian that she once was, before that window snapped shut and the medusa turned away.

"Now, please excuse me. I have to get back to burning these books. Busy, busy, busy, that's the lot of the librarian."

Yasha sadly watched her return to stoking the fire. How many centuries of knowledge were being destroyed in this poor woman's madness? What value of tomes now lay, completely stripped of their worth, in a glowing pile of ashes?

Yasha's eyes widened and she looked with new interest at the pile of burning tomes. Cautiously, she stuck an armored foot into the very edges, and kicked one of the books free. She glanced back briefly, but the librarian seemed too engrossed in grabbing another few books from the nearby shelves to care, so she kicked the still glowingly hot book once more towards the entrance. It trailed ash, embers, and half burned pages as it skittered across the floor.

She nudged it forward again as she rounded the corner back into the hall. Deekin yelped as the still burning book slid past him.

"Sorry Deekin. Well, I have another shard," she said, holding up the piece of glass.

"So we heard," Valen said thoughtfully. Yasha frowned curiously at his odd expression, but he glanced down at the floor and continued before she could comment. "Why did you bring one of the books?"

He pulled off a gauntlet and leaned down, grabbing the half-burned tome from the floor.

Alarmed, Yasha jumped forward to try to stop him. "Be careful. I just got that out of the fire. It's still..." Her voice faltered. He held the crumbling book calmly in his hands, though some of the binding was yet glowing from the heat of the bonfire.

He smiled wanly at her, and shifted his grip on the book so he could hold out his hand to her. Though his palm was covered in ash, it otherwise bore no mark that he had been handling the fiery object.

"I have some natural resistance to such things," he said.

Yasha shrugged after a moment, shaking her head. She had seen odder things, after all. "I picked it up because it is completely worthless. An object once filled with knowledge, whose words have now been irretrievably lost. Which of course means its value is...without compare."

"The merchant?" he asked immediately. Ah, yes. Now he was definitely impressed. Yasha struggled not to beam with pride.

She nodded, and pointed at the still cooling book. "Why don't you just carry that until we get there?"

His answering smile was just as priceless.


	8. Chapter 8 Revised

Yasha slid the last piece of glass against the others and sat on a nearby rock, chin on her fists, to examine her handiwork. The merchant, after some odd negotiations, had agreed to trade the ruined book for his piece. The fourth shard they had gleaned from a raid of a mage's tower, though the mage had given up magic and his shiftless apprentice took his place at its top. The four shards fit together perfectly, without even splinters of glass missing between them, perhaps due to their magical nature. There was only one gaping hole in the reconstruction, about the size of the other shards. It was the fifth hole for the fifth piece.

It was the piece the queen had already given to Sabal.

Yasha scowled down at her reflection, unable to decide on a course of action. Her hair fell in ragged strands around her face, turned from brown to ashen by the same soot from the library that smeared her skin. The paladin huffed, blowing one of the errant strands away from her eyes. She looked just as worn and tired as she felt.

Deekin's reptilian face appeared in the mirror beside hers. "You thinks she'll trade for it, boss?"

Yasha sighed, tapping her foot thoughtfully. "I can think of no trade she can offer, Deekin, that would be acceptable. She would only trade if I gave her something of equal value to the shard she now holds. I have no intention of handing over any power to the Valsharess' forces, if I can at all help it."

After a moment, she quirked one side of her mouth up at Deekin. "Unless you think she'll just surrender it. Ah, Sabal," Yasha said, sitting back and spreading her arms in mock welcome, "I see you realized we have won the day. Just give us the shard and go in peace. Oh! While you're at it, you should just renounce your wicked ways and join with the Seer's forces, because being Good is great and being Evil is stupid."

She laughed at herself weakly, pressing the heels of her gloved hands over her eyes. Her headache was getting worse, and she found herself wishing for a nice, soft bed; preferably one in the Yawning Portal. Just the vague yearning to return to the surface brought the ache of the geas back in full force, however. Silently berating the magic for not being able to recognize mere wishful thinking when it saw it, she groaned and stretched. Leaning forward again, elbows on knees, she looked to Valen.

"What do you think?"

He returned her look coolly for a moment, before the hint of a smile tugged the edge of his lips. "Somehow, I do not think that argument will work with her, my lady."

"Alas." Yasha quietly laughed again, shaking her head. Peeling the gauntlet off of her right hand, she rubbed the bridge of her nose. "What do you suggest we do instead?"

"If we wait long enough," he began, his tone turning serious, "then she will eventually attack us and try to take the shards we have. Even if we had the time to play waiting games, however, I do not relish the idea of allowing her to chose the time and place of that battle."

Yasha nodded, looking up at him. "Agreed."

"When we have attempted to attack her, however, she has proven to be...elusive," he added.

Yasha wrinkled her nose with disgust. The few instances when they had encountered Sabal in Shaori's Fell, she had disappeared in a flash of magic, leaving her minions to die in her stead. She nodded once again, motioning for Valen to continue.

He looked down at the shards thoughtfully for a moment, then back up at her. "I suggest we return to the castle, my lady," he said, motioning towards the distant building. "She will not be able to take the risk that we will find some use for the rest of the shards or conclude a deal with Elicid. She cannot return to the Valsharess empty handed. Therefore, she will either attack us while we travel there, or shortly after we arrive."

Yasha rubbed her chin with the gloveless hand. "You don't believe there can be a peaceful resolution, then?"

His brow furrowed as he tilted his head at her. "I am somewhat surprised you think to seek one. From my experience with the Valsharess' forces, however, I can guarantee Sabal will not."

Yasha felt her jaw tighten, and forced herself to stop gritting her teeth. He was almost certainly right. There would be more bloodshed before this was over, and there was little she could do to stop it, with her opponent so willing to throw away her peoples' lives. She forced herself to instead focus on Valen's suggestion for how to bring Sabal to them.

"We will need to make sure we have her attention when we approach the castle, then," she finally said. She reached down and began carefully wrapping the glass pieces back up. She smiled grimly up at Valen and Deekin as she did so. "That's fine. I'm pretty good at being obvious."

It was only a little while later that for the first time in a long time, Yasha wished she had a horse. A paladin's traditional mount would have been nice, but she would have settled for a palfrey as well. Something large and flashy. Of course, she had no horse, so she had to make do with what she had. She marched resolutely through the middle of the village, confidence and purpose in every step. She quite likely looked stupid, but, judging from the odd looks from the avariel she passed, at least it was likely to get attention.

She headed unerringly towards one of the ridges near the edge of Shaori Fell's town square, and plowed right up its side. She was nearly halfway up before Valen caught her arm and firmly pulled her to a stop.

"Where do you intend on going?" he asked incredulously.

She pointed to the flattened ledge at the top of the ravine. "Up there."

"I understand the point is to invite attack, but this is foolish. You will be exposed on all sides," he added, waving his other hand to encompass the rest of the cavern. "and we have no idea where Sabal's forces might be."

Yasha smiled wryly. That was the point, after all. She grabbed Valen's wrist and pulled until he relinquished his grip on her arm. "Then I'll have to depend on you two to watch my back, won't I?"

She regained her momentum as best she could, though she drew farther and farther from the lights of the town itself as she climbed higher. The top of the ravine was bathed in shadow, and she tripped a couple of times before drawing Duty in frustration.

"Enough stumbling around in the dark," she growled. In response, the runes on Duty's blade blazed. The sword's magic shed light at all times, but this time the answering flare of light lit the stone around her like a brilliant patch of daylight. She blinked a few times before striding up to what looked like the highest point that overlooked the village.

"Sabal!" she called, though not nearly loud enough for her liking. She sucked in a deep breath and tried again, "Sabal!"

This time she thought she heard the faint echoes of her voice off of the distant walls of the cavern. Good. She pulled a cloth bundle from her belt with her off hand and held it aloft, while still holding Duty high as well.

"I have the rest of the mirror shards, Sabal," she continued at the top of her voice. Below her, the town's inhabitants began to turn and stare up at her. "I am heading towards the castle, now."

Yasha paused. Her heart beat fiercely in her chest, and her fingers tingled with nervous tension. She strained to hear the first hints of an incoming attack, whether the tingle of destructive spell in the air or the faint whistle of a crossbow bolt. For several tense moments she waited, but there was nothing. Finally she dropped her arm. "I thought you might like to know," she yelled.

Below her, the avariel stared up at her with varying degrees of confusion and consternation. She grinned and saluted them with Duty before turning from the ledge.

"Think she heard you, boss?" Deekin asked curiously.

Yasha shrugged, tucking the mirror shards back into her belt pouch. "I don't know. I certainly feel better, though." She looked around once more, squinting into the darkness outside the ring of light. "Stay back from me a bit," she continued quietly to both Deekin and Valen, "out of the light so your dark vision won't get ruined. Let me know if you see anything."

They both nodded, Deekin enthusiastically and Valen comparatively curtly. With that she led them back down the slope, dislodging pebbles and small rocks that clattered around her feet as she slid to the bottom. She paused for a moment to get her bearings, and then marched off towards the castle, head high and shoulders squared.

The rocks and ledges of the ravine around her stood out in sharp relief as Duty's passing bathed everything briefly in a fierce glow. It was a struggle to keep her eyes forward and on the castle instead of on the shadows that flickered between the rocks at every step. Her blood was singing in her ears from the tension by the time the castle walls finally loomed before her. She paused once more, looking up at the narrow windows for a telltale shine of an arrowhead or flicker of magic. There was still nothing. The sound of Valen's armored footfalls on the castle steps prompted her on, so she pushed her way through the main doors and into the entry hall.

The tattered remains of huge spider webs still hung from every corner and fixture in the room. They shuddered as she barged through the doorway, and the light she brought with her made their shadows flutter across the room. She glanced up at the vaulted ceiling, and noted with a mixture of relief and surprise that the drow had not brought in more driders to hold the castle. Peering around suspiciously, she continued her march to the throne room, bounding up and over the dry, cobweb-strewn fountain that dominated the hall rather than deviate from her path and go around it. She only came to a stop when she stood before the grand double doors of the throne room itself.

She felt the muscles in her body tremble, struggling between exhaustion and pre-battle tension. Frowning, she turned back to her companions. Valen was not far behind, much closer than she had suggested actually, and well within the light Duty was throwing. He had his weapon at the ready, and looked tensely down the hallways before frowning at her and shaking his head. Behind him, Deekin cautiously approached as well, apparently trying to look everywhere at once.

Yasha felt worry gnaw at her. She had done everything but paint a bull's-eye on her chest, but Sabal had still not shown herself. "And I gave her such a nice invitation too," she grumbled, pulling open the throne room doors. It took her only a moment to take in the scene in the throne room before speaking.

"Ah. There she is."

Sure enough, Sabal and several drow waited at the far end of the hall, near where Elicid stood. Yasha felt their eyes on her as she led the way down the center of the hall. As she approached the waiting band, Duty began to chime, first softly, and then with a low urgency as the sword started to burn with divine white fire. Yasha didn't need the sword's warning, nor even the prickling of her paladin sense, to see the dark purpose and evil intent in the drow leader's eyes. The woman's red glare held death. Yasha returned the stare evenly. If it was death she craved, it was death she would have. She turned grimly to the avariel before the throne.

"Elicid. I believe we have a deal to conclude."

* * *

The red light in Sabal's eyes had flickered and died as she collapsed, sliding off of Duty's blade to lie in a heap on the castle's marble floor. Sabal had fought viciously, unwilling to return empty handed to her mistress. In the end, she had received the death she had so desired to deal out. Yasha could still vividly remember how her blood had stained the white stone and magnificent rug at their feet. Shaking her head, she gripped her side and winced. Leaning slightly against a rocky wall she bowed to the exhaustion that forced her to stop. The completed Mirror of Seeing was wrapped snuggly in her pack, and the cave around them stood chillingly empty, the entirety of Shaori's Fell having wrenched free of its dank prison and returned to its proper mountaintop perch with a roar of magic.

Valen walked past her slowly, looking about the quiet cavern. "And so the settlement has returned whence it came. Hopefully its people will find peace, now that their ordeal is over."

Yasha couldn't help but smile at the proud way that he surveyed the cave and the very pleased tone in his voice. She was always happy to see that she was not alone in feeling that warm tingle of satisfaction when a good deed had been done. However much he felt the need to distrust her, she found she was growing to truly like this fellow. She closed her eyes, and allowed herself to bask in the same satisfaction, putting aside her memories of the grisly deaths it cost.

Deekin padded past her as well, his lighter, quicker steps easy to discern. "Everybody gone, now? Back to home? Awwww. Deekin wanted to shop, first. Deekin need a new pair of shoes."

Yasha chuckled, and pushed herself away from the wall. "We'll see what we can do when we get back to the Seer's encampment."

Their footsteps were swallowed up by the silence as they made their way out of the cavern and towards the sandy bend where the Boatman would be waiting. Yasha paused briefly and looked down at the ground. Though sore and aching, she leaned down and plucked a white feather from the ground. It was somewhat grimy from its time on the Underdark's cavern floor, but it was whole, for the most part. With some delicate cleaning, she thought it could be return to its white, pristine state once more.

"Something wrong boss?" Deekin called from ahead of her.

Yasha looked up at them. Both Deekin and Valen had stopped, and looked back at her questioningly. She shook her head and tucked the feather gently into her belt pouch.

"No. Nothing's wrong. Let's go."


	9. Chapter 9 Revised

The crystalline blue waters of Ice Cherry Lake rocked the boat gently. The warm breeze from the south caressed her skin, promising that the sunny days of summer were just around the corner. The smell from the cherry blossoms of the trees that crowded the shores of the lake hung heavy and delicious in the air. Yasha sighed, basking in the late afternoon sunlight.

"Ummm...boss?"

Yasha's head jerked up, and she opened her eyes to darkness. After a few moments' blurry attempts at focusing, she finally recognized Deekin's scaly face before her.

"Boss, you tells Deekin to remind you to never, ever sleep in your armor again. Remember boss? Never ever. So Deekin is reminding you, like he promised."

She shifted against the side of Cavallas' boat, and rolled her head back, trying to rid her neck of the stiffness that had settled there. There was no sunshine, and no warm spring breezes to be enjoyed. Instead of the smell of cherry blossoms, the cold smell of death wafted up from the inky blackness of the river this boat rode on.

"Thank you Deekin," she replied half-heartedly. Deekin nodded, smiling happily, and wandered back to his own position in the middle of the boat.

"We are nearly back to the Seer's encampment in any case," Valen added from his position near the other end of the boat. Yasha yawned and stretched before looking at him, trying her best not to be petulant. Though he looked somewhat tired, the tiefling certainly didn't look like he was on the verge of sleep. His voice was even, but she wondered if she didn't catch just a bit of smugness in it anyway. It was probably her imagination.

She knew SHE was very tired, however, for all she could think to say in reply was a grunted, "Good."

He was right, of course, and they pulled up to the dock shortly thereafter. She took only the time to briefly confirm that Cavallas would be available to take them to the second mysterious island before dragging herself towards the modified temple.

Despite her exhaustion, she nodded agreement with Valen when he suggested they meet immediately with the Seer. Yasha would have liked nothing better than to collapse on the bed in the small room provided for her, but she knew she would need to talk with the drow soon. It was a necessary meeting, and it was best to be able to sleep soundly knowing the audience was over with.

And thus, it was only a few minutes later that she found herself standing before the Seer in her private rooms, reporting on the last day. Or was it two? She had lost track at some point. The drow priestess, for her part, stood near an onyx desk that seem molded from the wall, an obvious leftover from when this was the room of a high priestess of Lolth. She was composed and attentive, though Yasha suspected that she had been roused from her bed on their arrival at the docks. Valen stood near her, flanked by Imloth, another of her military advisors, leaving Yasha and Deekin to stand opposite them all like a supplicant. The paladin didn't mind, as she was the outsider after all. She finished her story, confident if she gave a complete and truthful report that it would mesh with whatever Valen would say to the Seer later.

"And that," Yasha said, as she finished describing the events at Shaori's Fell, "is how we found this." She unfolded the cloth in which she had wrapped the magic mirror, and displayed it to the Seer proudly.

To her surprise, the Seer merely came forward enough to inspect the mirror, and made no move to take it from her hands. After a few moment's careful scrutiny, she stepped back once more and responded.

"I should warn you, Yasha... I know something of this mirror. It is a very powerful - but very dangerous - item. What do you intend to do with it?"

Yasha looked at her blankly for a moment, feeling puzzled. Was she missing something? "I rather thought that you could make use of it, actually."

The Seer stepped back another step and sank into the chair at her desk, looking at the mirror somewhat wistfully. "I might be able to, though I would have to be extremely careful with such an item. But I could never ask you to turn such a valuable artifact over to me."

Yasha blinked at her in surprise. Did the Seer actually think Yasha would keep it, after all of this trouble? "I won't deny I liked being able to aid the people of Shaori's Fell, and that it was worthwhile goal to keep this artifact from the Valsharess, but I quested to find something to aid you, my erstwhile allies," she walked forward, and carefully placed the mirror on the top of the desk. "If you can use it, then take it. Maybe it will help."

The Seer's eyes went wide in shock. "I... that is very... generous of you, Yasha. Thank you. I... will try to put it to good advantage."

The priestess then accepted the mirror with near reverence, sliding it carefully across the stone, and running her fingers delicately over the reflective surface as she did so. "We have little to offer, but surely there is something we can give you in return."

Yasha tilted her head at the Seer, frowning thoughtfully. Then she grinned. "Well, Deekin here said he needs a new pair of shoes," she replied, waving towards the kobold at her side.

Deekin blinked up at her in surprise, then at the Seer. "Oh! And boss needs a new shirt too." He turned backed towards Yasha once more. "Last one gets a hole in it, remember boss?"

Yasha touched her abdomen and winced at the memory. "Yes, I think I remember, Deekin. Oh!" she added, as another thought occurred to her. "And I'd like a nice hot bath, if that can be arranged," she said.

The Seer was looking at them both with an expression that seemed evenly mystified and annoyed. "I was being serious, Yasha."

"As was I Seer. I meant no insult," Yasha replied, bowing slightly. She smiled wearily at the priestess. "I think, perhaps, you underestimate how much I would appreciate a good bath."

From beside her, Deekin piped up again. "I think we'd all appreciate that Boss."

After a tired moment of confusion, Yasha threw an insulted scowl at Deekin. "Hey!"

Deekin ducked his head, throwing up his head in supplication. "Deekin just means he thinks we'd all like to take a bath, Boss."

Yasha frowned at him suspiciously.

"Really, Boss."

Holding the mirror delicately to her chest, the Seer tilted back her head and laughed. It was a lilting musical sound. Yasha felt her face flush with embarrassment at the Seer's open laughter, Imloth's amused smirk, and Valen's bemused expression. She cleared her throat and shifted uncomfortably.

"Very well then, Yasha," the Seer, responded, the laughter still in her voice. "I will arrange for your reward then, if that is what you desire."

"Thank you, Seer," Yasha said, bowing again. "If I might be excused...?"

"Of course," she responded, still smiling.

Bowing her head briefly, Yasha led Deekin to the door from the Seer's rooms. As they entered the hallway, she playfully smacked the back of Deekin's head and hissed down at him, "'We'd all appreciate that?' "

Deekin grinned at her. "Sorry, boss."

The Seer was as good as her word. They soon dragged a large tub into her room, and shortly thereafter it was filled with steaming water. They even set up a small divider next to it for privacy, though the room was so small it hardly seemed necessary. She appreciated the gesture, however, and sincerely thanked those of the Seer's followers that had evidently volunteered to provide her the bath. Once they left, she spent some time investigating the wall in the corner of her room, just for peace of mind. It wouldn't do to be caught, literally, with her pants down by some assassin sneaking into her room.

She had enough of those kinds of surprises already.

Still, the hot bath was too tempting to ignore, and before long she was sinking into it gratefully. She hissed as the various nicks, scrapes and sore spots she had acquired over the last adventure sprang to prickling life, but soon even those painful little reminders quieted, and she leaned her head back against the edge of the tub, groaning with relief.

"I do hope there's no more of that," said Enserric's voice from beyond the privacy screen. "You're enjoying your bath a little too much, I think."

Yasha kept her eyes closed and sighed. "Ah, the mighty sword deigns to speak again. What have you been doing? Napping?"

He all but sniffed haughtily before replying. "I was NOT napping."

She smirked, though he was certainly not in the position to notice. "No? Then why were you so quiet then?"

"I was thinking," he answered, a defensive tone entering his voice.

Yasha opened her eyes and sat up, grabbing a small washing cloth that hung on the edge of the tub. "About what?" she asked, scrubbing the grime off of her face and throat vigorously.

"Nothing you would possibly comprehend."

Yasha snorted, then shook her head, rinsing off her wash cloth to start on her arms. "Sorry I asked. In fact, I was going to ask for some advice, but if you're going to be all insulting about it, I..."

"Oh? What advice would that be?" he interrupted. She smiled at herself and ducked her head back to wet her hair.

"I wouldn't want to interrupt your incomprehensible thoughts," she replied lightly, tangling her fingers in her hair and scrubbing at her scalp.

"You already have, you insufferable woman."

Yasha laughed as she sat up again, water pouring from her hair and down her back. It felt so nice to finally get clean again.

"I was wondering what you knew of golems."

He was silent for a time. Yasha was just about to ask again when he finally replied. "Is this another case where you've already read a book on the subject?"

"I wish I had. No, I've fought them before but with little luck," she grumbled.

"I wouldn't doubt it, if you were using that holy sword of yours," he replied smugly.

Yasha frowned and paused in her cleaning. "Why do you say that?"

"Your sword is built for, well..." He paused for a moment, then his voice took on a pompous, over-dramatic tone, "Combating Darkness and Evil."

"And?" she prompted. That hardly seemed like a down side to her.

"No matter how dark hearted or good spirited the mage who makes them, golems are just animated by pure magic, and magic has no morals or ethics. It just is. Thus, there is no Evil for your sword to combat, no matter what you may think of the cause they fight for. You might as well be fighting them with a toothpick. There is no way you could get through their magically enhanced armors with your precious Duty."

Yasha shook her head in amused disbelief. Enserric was jealous. "No doubt you would suggest that you would do a much better job."

"I would," he started proudly. "Though there are likely many golems even this sword's enchantment couldn't penetrate," he admitted.

Finished scrubbing, Yasha examined first her wash cloth then the bath water with disgust. Sighing with regret, she pulled herself out of the quickly cooling water. Shivering, she hurried to towel herself off, considering Enserric's words while she did so. Though mildly irritating, his words explained what she had seen in the past. Duty's holy enchantments had indeed done little against the enchanted constructs she had fought before. His explanation for why was sound. But the golems by a master golem maker in the Underdark were likely to be even more powerful than any she had faced previously. If Enserric admitted he may not be able to penetrate their defenses, then it was a possibility she had to take very seriously. By the time she was pulling on the sleeping wear they had provided for her, however, she had an idea.

"If you can't fight them as you are, Enserric, then obviously we're just going to have to make you more powerful."

Enserric's response was…dubious, to put it charitably. "What do you mean to do?"

Groaning, Yasha stretched out on the narrow bed. Warmth, comfort, and exhaustion together worked to settle her mind. Her eyes were already closing when she responded. "You'll see in the morning." She was fading to sleep when she heard his voice respond, but didn't have the energy to stay awake enough to hear what he had to say.

At some time during her sleep someone had emptied her bath water and taken the soiled wash cloth and towel. It worried her, somewhat, that she had not noticed someone in her room, but she had been exhausted. She tried telling herself that sleeping in her allies' home base should be the safest place she COULD sleep, but that did not convince the nagging doubt in the back of her mind.

Enserric didn't complain too much when she dropped him off with the drow smith. Yasha didn't think SHE would take too kindly to being stuck in a forge herself, but then again she wasn't a sword either. He also seemed, even when alive, to be one interested in taking risks for power. That was certainly what this was. She sold nearly everything they had looted from the Valsharess' defeated forces to afford the additional enchantments the drow swore he could make, so she hoped they would be worth it.

Still, Yasha felt much lighter of step, though whether it was because she had a good night's sleep, had a nice bath, or just wasn't wearing her armor she couldn't tell. She was wearing her worn trousers and her trusty calf skin boots, but along with those more mundane items was a gift from the Seer – a beautiful tunic made of some light and shimmering material. She had been told it was some sort of spider's silk, though she didn't want to think too much on that fact. It was beautiful, it was comfortable, and it fit perfectly, and that was all that really mattered.

Deekin was holed up in his rooms, writing frantically from his notes, so after she left the smith's forge, she sought out Valen. She didn't have to look far, for outside her own room she ran into him searching for her.

"Might we speak?" he asked, his voice low.

Yasha raised her eyebrows, somewhat surprised that he wanted to talk. She motioned towards her room and followed him in. He turned to face her when she entered, his gaze fierce, though there was certainly some uncertainty in his eyes as he began.

"I wish to talk about the Seer."

Yasha nodded and sat on the edge of her bed. "Good. I have a few questions about her, myself."

He seemed to think about it for a moment, and then shook his head. "It is not my place to discuss the Seer's business beyond how it relates to me, personally. But perhaps that will shed some light on what you wish to know."

She grunted in surprise and crossed her arms. Then she shrugged, curious, and nodded for him to continue.

He paused again, somber and obviously gathering his thoughts. "I am unsure how much knowledge you have of the planes, Yasha. I suspect little, in which case the Blood Wars mean nothing to you. Is that so?"

Yasha thought she might have read something about it in some religious text or another, but she couldn't remember anything besides that. She considered Valen and his very serious expression a moment, then leaned back and looked up at him innocently. "Is this a gender thing? Like how all men are pigs?"

He laughed heartily, taken by surprise. "No, no," he chuckled, "and surely not all men are pigs? Or do I not want to ask that question?"

She grinned at him, happy to see him laugh. "I don't know. Do you want the answer?"

He smiled and shook his head, obviously still taken off guard by the turn in the conversation. His smile faded, though, as he forged ahead with his original intent.

"The Blood Wars are the ages-old conflict between the demons of the Abyss and the devils of Baatezu. We have battled so long and so ferociously that the War is now part of our blood."

Yasha's smile faded as well as he continued. 'We' he said, and 'ours'. Did he truly consider himself a demon?

"There is no true hope of winning, just one battle after the next is fought wherever demons and devils encounter each other. An endless cycle of rage and bloodshed. I was... recruited into those battles." He looked away from her, his eyes taking on a haunted cast. "For years I fought in the Outer Planes as something less than a soldier... I was a beast."

Her breath caught in her throat. "I'm so sorry. That sounds terrible."

He nodded to her and attempted a wan smile of appreciation. "Thank you, my lady. It is... something I try not to think about any longer. At the time, however, it was all I knew."

She shook her head, shocked. "How were you recruited?"

"I was captured," he scowled at the memory. "I spent all of my youth fleeing from the Blood War, but I was scooped up by the demons and made a battle slave anyway."

Scooped up by demons and forced to fight in the Abyss? Shock faded, replaced by a building outrage which shook her voice. "How long did this go on?"

Valen thought for a moment. "I cannot be sure. Much of my time in the Abyss was spent in incoherent rage... perhaps twenty years? More? Time has little meaning there."

This man had just yesterday quite valiantly fought by her side. This man, of both quick wit and dry humor, had been forced to fight in the Abyss for TWENTY YEARS? It was intolerable. She could barely imagine it. Yasha tried to swallow her anger and formed her words slowly, "Please, continue your tale."

"The Blood Wars made me into the warrior I am," he motioned to his armor and weapons. "Though it meant nothing to me. I was a mindless soldier, no more. My infernal masters encouraged the demonic blood that was within me. I was beholden to it... I reveled in it, and was desperate to please my masters with each opponent I slaughtered. There was nothing in me that was human, and that meant less than nothing to me. Until the Seer found me."

Yasha stared at him, alternatively fascinated and repulsed by his admission, though both ways her heart ached for what he had gone through. And finally the Seer came into the the equation. "She came to the Abyss?" she finally said hoarsely.

He shook his head. "No. The first time I saw her, I was summoned along with my master to your world by a spell... to fight against the Seer, in fact."

Yasha's mouth dropped open in surprise, and she forced herself to snap it back shut as he continued.

"A drow priestess had called us and so we were beholden to do battle. During the attack I came face to face with the Seer... and she... looked into my soul. I have no other way to describe it. We were banished back to the planes, but the memory of the Seer stayed with me. It haunted my dreams." Valen closed his eyes, shuddering. "For the first time in decades, I began to remember the life I once had."

She pursed her lips, trying to imagine such an encounter. Some dark feeling still stirred deep within her, though she couldn't quite identified it. Sadness on his behalf. It must be. Sympathy for his pain. She tilted her head at him. "That can't have been easy, considering where you were."

His jaw tightened briefly, and his voice was flat when he responded. "It wasn't."

Yasha's mouth went dry. She suspected she knew what happened next, but could not keep herself from asking. "What happened?"

He paused at her question, closing his eyes. "My master sensed my... difficulty. I was tortured, for months or years... I really could not tell. I only remember that it was agony beyond measure. Demons know how to torture."

The sadness was banished from her heart, replaced by a fiercer defensiveness. Yasha gritted her teeth fiercely at this, though Valen did not seem to notice.

"Eventually I was able to escape Grimash't." For a moment Valen's eyes took on a haunted look. "I made my way to your world, an alien place for a planar such as me, and searched until I found the Seer. She healed my wounds and... spoke to me. She offered to help me. If I wanted it." His voice is thick with emotion. "She saved me in every way that one can be saved."

Yasha dropped her gaze to the floor. She gripped the edge of her bed with white knuckled finger while her aching heart pounded in her chest. She rocked slightly, considering his words. Why was she sad? Shouldn't that ending make her happy? "Your master didn't try to get you back?" she asked, looking up from the gray stone of the floor.

Valen smirked. "Yes, he did. He was unsuccessful. It seems that all my skill at killing devils also applies just as well to demons. Imagine that."

Hesitantly at first, Yasha smiled in return. "Yes. Imagine that," she said. She looked back down at the stone floor, wondering. She mentally poked at her heart, unable to comprehend the strange feelings this discussion started.

She saw his boots as he paced the short distance from one end of her room to the other as he spoke, "I thought it necessary to tell you all this simply so you know how truly important the Seer is to me. I would never betray her... or allow her to be betrayed."

Her confusion snapped to an end once more. Yasha stood abruptly, anger clearing her thoughts, and fiercely shook her head. "I am not going to betray anyone, Valen. You have to trust me."

He grimaced. "I'm sorry. I do not mean to make accusations. I simply thought you should know that." He looked around awkwardly, not quite meeting her eye, before continuing. "Am I correct that we will not leave for some time yet?"

Yasha sighed, he anger dissipating as quickly as it had come. "Yes. I believe we should wait for the upgrades to Enserric before we go to the Isle of the Maker...unless you have some objection?"

"No," he replied, moving towards the door. "Not at all. I will be with either the Seer or Imloth if you have need of me before then."

Yasha nodded, and said nothing as he left. She stood there for a long time, just looking at the empty doorway before, restless and troubled, she snatched up Duty and left her room to stalk the temple's halls. She needed to go for a walk.


	10. Chapter 10 Revised

The temple was larger than it seemed from the outside. Of course, it could have been the darkness of the corridors. Despite the relatively frequent sources of pale, magical light, there were more shadows than not wherever she went, and the darkness made everything seem larger and more menacing. This was especially true once she descended a short series of steps to a strange lower level. It could have also just been a trick the corridors in this lower level played on her, as they twisted and turned on one another. Just when she thought she might have figured out the spider's web pattern, however, she arrived at yet another dead end. Frowning, she sighed. Yasha felt fairly confident she could find her way back to the stairs up and to the less confusing upper level, but she didn't really feel like going back to her assigned room just yet.

As she just turned to continue her explorations, another deep sigh brought the smell of ash and old charcoal from the darkened dead end to her nose. Curious, she turned back, fingering Duty's hilt. After the duel on her first day in the drow town, she had decided to wear Duty at all times, but it seemed disrespectful to bare the blade on holy ground without a very good reason. So she hesitated to draw it as she stepped forward. As her eyes adjusted, the inky blackness at the end of the hall began to take shape, and an outline of a large doorway appeared.

Yasha licked her lips and tilted her head at the door. The smell of old cinders was stronger, now, and she could taste it on her tongue as well. She strained her senses, cautious even in the heart of her allies' base. She heard and saw nothing, and her paladin senses could detect no Evil from the dark room beyond the door, but a deeper, instinctual sense still raised the hairs on the back of her neck.

She stood still for a long time, straining to see ahead, before finally drawing Duty. She was certainly not explicitly told there was a prohibition against merely baring the blade, after all, and she could always apologize later. That was a luxury she would not have if she died, either from hostile creatures or from just tripping and breaking her neck.

Duty's muted golden glow silently confirmed what her paladin senses had already told her. No Evil lurked nearby. Still, the light was enough to bring the details of the doorway out of the shadows, and she finally saw what she had smelled.

Yasha wasn't sure what materials these massive doors were made of, but it was now burnt beyond all recognition. The heavy doors leaned askew and half open, their metallic hinges melted and twisted by some hellish heat. Pausing only a moment to run her fingers along their blackened and charred surface, she slid between the staggered doors, Duty leading the way.

"Tyr, Torm, and Ilmater," Yasha swore, her voice echoing in the huge chamber she had entered. Only a few feet from the doorway, the ash covered floor abruptly ended at a gaping pit that dominated the room. Above her, tower's ceiling was somewhere far beyond Duty's ability to light it. The smell of old smoke and faint death hung in the stale air.

She shuffled forward, cautiously peering over the edge. Jagged fingers of rock stuck out from the walls of the pit at odd intervals, though Yasha had no way to tell if these were the remains of some burnt structure or just another menacing and deadly part of the drow architecture. Either way, they spiraled down the walls, ending at an ash covered and disturbingly irregular floor well below her.

"Ah. There you are."

Yasha started, and moved quickly away from the edge. She blinked at the figure in the doorway several times, feeling vaguely like a child caught poking around in her parents' room, before grimacing at her own foolishness.

"Seer," she said, giving a small bow. "I apologize. I did not realize you were looking for me."

The Seer smiled slightly, shaking her head and waving away Yasha's concern. The priestess took a couple of steps into the chamber, looking around with a strange combination of sadness and pain. "I see you have found the spider pit."

Yasha glanced quickly around the room again, her eyes widening. "The spider pit?"

"Yes," she answered, walking forward slowly. "When this temple was still held by the followers of Lolth, those who displeased the priestesses but were not deemed worthy of sacrifice to their goddess were instead brought here and thrown into the pit." The Seer stopped at the edge of the pit, gazing into its depths. "Here, they were...eaten alive."

Yasha followed her, and looked down as well. A chill traveled down her spine as her imagination easily painted huge, glistening webs between the jagged outcroppings, and thousands of spiders, large and small, throughout the pit. The Seer's voice was very quiet as she continued.

"Valen led a small team of soldiers and mages to clean it out. They filled the room with fire spells, and killed the creatures as they tried to escape the burning webs. The largest was a half demon as big as several rothe beasts. Several of our best fell trying to take that one down before Valen finally landed the killing blow." The Seer motioned down the pit, and Yasha's eyes followed her gesture to rest on the uneven floor below. The paladin grimaced once more. Now she knew what lay below the ashes.

"I'm surprised," she replied, after a moment.

The Seer looked at her curiously. "You are surprised at Valen's actions?"

Yasha raised her eyebrows, and then shook her head vigorously. "Not at all. I meant that I was surprised you haven't reclaimed this room." She waved down at the ash. "Cleaned it out, truly, considering all it represented. I suppose you have other priorities, of course." Yasha paused thoughtfully. "I'm not at all surprised that Valen fought the creature and led this raid. He is a skilled and courageous warrior."

The Seer laughed, her eyes dancing in the Duty's dim light. Yasha bit her lip and gave drow a puzzled look.

"I apologize, Yasha," she continued, seeing Yasha's expression, "but that is nearly word for word what Valen said to me when I asked about you."

Yasha felt her eyebrows creep up her forehead. "I take back my earlier expression of surprise," she said to the priestess. "THAT is surprising."

"Why so?" the Seer asked, still obviously amused.

"I would have expected him to barrage you with reasons as to why I should not be trusted with the role you have given me."

"Ah," the Seer replied, nodding. "He did that as well."

Yasha rubbed her temple, and snorted. "Now THAT makes no sense."

A bit of sadness returned to the Seer's face. "It does if you know Valen well, I fear."

Yasha gnawed thoughtfully on the inside of her lip and twisted Duty in her hands, watching with only half her attention as the changing light move the shadows around the pit. At the Seer's words, the tangled emotions that had driven her from her room returned. It was irrational.

"Valen spoke to me a bit," Yasha began, feeling for the words carefully, "about where he was when he first met you. And about what has happened since."

It was the priestess' turn to look surprised. "Did he?" She gave Yasha a piercing look for a moment before asking, "What did you think of his tale then?"

"Think? I think I feel an urge to storm an abyssal keep somewhere," Yasha growled.

The Seer flashed a knowing, wry look at her. "But Valen is no longer in such a keep to be rescued."

Yasha scratched her nose, embarrassed. She shrugged, pacing away from the Seer as much as the ledge would allow, trying in vain to hide the flush she knew was spreading across her face. "Yes, well. It's a paladin thing. I'm sure it will pass."

She stood very still, with her back to the Seer, waiting for her face too cool. In her mind, she could still see the fierceness in Valen's eyes, and hear the tension in his voice. She could very clearly hear his words as well.

_I thought it necessary to tell you all this simply so you know how truly important the Seer is to me._

"He seems very devoted to you." Yasha frowned at the tightness she heard in her own voice and at the words that came, unbidden, to her lips. She waited tensely as several moments of silence passed between the two women.

"Yes. He is," the Seer responded finally, her voice nearly a whisper. "He sees me as a mentor and a savior."

Yasha glanced back at the priestess. The paladin's body blocked the light from Duty, and the expression on the Seer's face was drowned in shadow. "That is the answer to the question that was truly on the tip of your tongue, was it not?" the Seer added.

Yasha looked away again quickly, and held her free arm across her chest. Surely the Seer was wrong! She barely knew either Valen or the drow priestess. Surely it hadn't been jealousy that had driver her from her room to walk the dark halls. Still, she couldn't deny the relief she had felt at the Seer's words, or the question that now fought to be asked. She struggled to keep silent. To find a way to truly deny what the Seer implied. As the words reached her tongue, however, she knew them for lies. Shaking her head, she let her initial question come.

"And how do you see him?" Yasha winced at the impertinence of the question once it was said aloud, but kept her back to the drow and let it stand. It was asked, and she couldn't take it back now. There was another long silence.

"I am glad I was able to help him, though he brought himself out of where and what he was by his own will. As you said, he is both skilled and courageous," she paused briefly, and her voice strengthened as she continued. "He has been invaluable asset to us since he has arrived. Not only in his personal skill at arms, but in how he has earned the respect of those drow who are our allies but are not followers of our goddess."

Yasha waited quietly for her to continue. After several moments, she turned to face the Seer, and Duty's light revealed none of the things in her expression that Yasha had thought she had heard in her voice. "You speak as the Seer. As the leader of your forces."

The Seer's face stayed composed as she responded. "Yes. It is who I am, and who I must be. My people need me, now more than ever."

"I see." Yasha looked down at the ash at her feet, feeling undeniably awkward. She didn't completely understand this urge to pry into things that were, truly, not of her concern. Still... "Then you do not mind him traveling with me on these quests?"

"Of course not," the Seer replied evenly. "I can see that you make a fine team, and together you are our best hope for success."

They both fell silent once more.

"This is a dark and dismal place," The Seer continued finally. Yasha looked up to see her standing on the lip of the abyss. The drow crossed her arms as she considered the room. "I will give some thought to your suggestion of having it cleaned up. It is best not to let such dark places go ignored, for it can weigh on the mind, and we all already have too many burdens as it is. Perhaps by clearing it out, we can lighten the spirits of those who know it is here."

Yasha blinked at the Seer thoughtfully before nodding. She recognized a reference to dark places, whether in the temple or in her own heart. "I agree. One never knows what evil things may find refuge in such a shadowed place."

The Seer smiled at Yasha wryly. "But now, it is time for lunch. Will you join me?"

"Of course, Seer," Yasha answered, bowing slightly. "I would be honored." Yasha then followed the Seer out of the once spider pit, glancing back only once before she sheathed Duty, covering the room in a blanket of darkness once more.

--

Yasha stood at the smith's stall, her arms crossed and her pack and shield at her feet. To say that her attempts to get to know the Seer's troops were unsuccessful would have been a gross understatement. Though the Seer's followers were friendly enough, those soldiers of the house Maeviir made Valen's attitude seem trusting and welcoming in comparison. Instead of making further attempts that would be more likely to harm than good, she had resigned herself to quietly waiting for the smith to finish the last touches on Enserric.

Well, Yasha was remaining silent, anyway. Valen, leaning against a makeshift wall nearby, also maintained his silence, though with many long-suffering looks towards the cavern ceiling. Deekin, however, rested up and excited about another trip into the Underdark, chattered away happily about so many subjects that Yasha lost track of them all. She grinned at Valen's explosive sigh of relief when the smith finally pronounced Enserric ready.

Enserric didn't look a great deal different, but the change in him was apparent from the moment she took him by the hilt and gave him a few test swings. Enserric, for his part, laughed exultantly.

"I see you're no worse for wear," Yasha told the sword wryly.

"I feel great!" he confirmed. "Can't you feel the difference?"

"I can," she quietly replied. He fairly crackled with energy, though it was a far cry from Duty's holy pulse. It felt wrong to hold Enserric in her hand while Duty was strapped to her back, but she could not argue with the logic against using a sword designed to defeat evil against things that were not. She thanked the smith for his excellent workmanship, and led the way towards the docks.

"I think," Enserric pronounced, "that given my newfound level of power, I deserve a new name."

Yasha eyed the sword in her hand. "Really?" she said dryly.

"Indeed! Do you realize how few enchanted items of any type can compete with me now? I need to have a new name to demonstrate this. Something dramatic," he paused, and the bolts of purple energy that played across the blade's surface flickered as he thought. "What about 'Stormbringer'?"

"Deekin thinks that taken already," the kobold noted from Yasha's side.

"Sword of Omens?"

Deekin wrinkled his nose. "That too."

"Oh!" Enserric exclaimed. "What about 'Enserric The Chaotic'?"

Yasha skidded to a stop so quickly that Valen very nearly ran into her. She brought the sword blade up close to her face and scowled. "Do you WANT me to leave you behind?"

"What?" Enserric complained. "What's wrong with 'Enserric the Chaotic'?"

"You know there is no way in any heaven or hell that I will wield something called 'The Chaotic'," she growled at him.

"Oh!" Deekin squealed. "What about 'The Shiny Sword of Goodness'?"

Yasha smirked at the sword. "Yes, Enserric, what about that?"

Enserric made strangled gagging sounds.

"Well, then," Yasha said, swinging him back down to her side, "I guess we'll just have to stick with 'Enserric the Gray', won't we?"

"I like the name. Sharp and to the point," Valen suggested with amusement in his eyes. "Appropriate for a long sword."

Yasha snickered, and then grinned at Valen as Enserric groaned loudly. "Fine. Fine," the sword conceded, "no new name, but loosen your grip. I am beginning to feel manhandled."

Yasha raised her eyebrows and dropped her jaw. "I think I've just been insulted."

"You think so? Let me know when you figure it out for sure," he replied acidly.


	11. Chapter 11 Revised

Yasha stretched her legs, and frowned at Cavallas. The Boatman had returned as promised, and without word of payment agreed to take them to the Isle of the Maker. Her attempts to get him to say what sort of creature he was had been in vain, and she feared to pry too much, as they still had need of his services. Not knowing what sort of creature he was, nor much on his powers or true motivation bothered her. Still, there was little to be done about it.

Deekin sat in the center of the boat. A small glow stone lit his area brightly while he worked intently on his notes. The scratch of his pen and low drone as he mumbled to himself were barely audible above the angry waters outside the boat's hull. His scaly brow was furrowed in concentration as he wrote and rewrote sections of text.

Yasha turned her attention on Valen. He sat very still near the stern of the boat, his ice blue eyes unfocused as he gazed, unseeing, over the river's waters. She chewed on the things both he and the Seer had said over the last two days, before finally addressing him.

"Valen?"

His gaze sharpened as he turned and focused on her.

"Something has been bothering me, and I was hoping you would have some thoughts on the matter. I made some attempts to get to know some of the drow troops this morning," she began slowly.

He arched an eyebrow out her. "Oh?"

Yasha grimaced. "Yes. It went about as well as you might imagine. The Seer's followers were polite enough but... Well, I don't get the impression that many of the others wanted to give me the time of day." His wan smile told her he was very familiar with the problem she had encountered. "Forgive me for asking," she continued, "but I'm curious. How do the drow feel about your leadership?"

He tilted his head at her thoughtfully. "I am not sure. Those who follow the Seer accepted me readily enough for her sake, but the others... they despise any creature who is not drow, themselves. I am no exception."

Yasha nodded knowingly and sighed. "Doesn't that make your job more difficult?"

"It did. For a time." A slight smile played across Valen's features. "I have a way of convincing even drow that my orders bear listening to. Strangely enough, I do not think my leadership would have been possible were it not for my demonic heritage." As if suddenly realizing his error, he stopped short and looked at her warily. "You... know what a tiefling is?"

His sudden concern ignited an impish desire in her to tease him, but she fought the urge down. "Yes, I do," she replied simply.

He nodded, his look troubled. "And... my demon's blood does not bother you?"

She tilted her chin up and met his eyes earnestly. "I judge a man by his actions, not his blood."

His smile was slow in response, as if her answer was one he was not accustomed to. "Thank you, Yasha. I... appreciate that."

She returned his smile and nodded for him to continue.

"Now where was I? Oh, yes. The drow respected the part of me that was infernal, I think. I have a temper that some call frightening, and they did not have to see much of it for word to get around. That gave them respect enough that they didn't resist when I assumed command during our first... engagement with the Valsharess." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Three months ago. It feels like forever."

Yasha narrowed her eyes at him. It seemed the memory of his assumption of command gave him no pleasure. "It didn't go well?"

"There is no good word for the way drow commit warfare. It is not two armies on the open field, clashing in a battle of arms." He paused, obviously searching for words. "It is as if... two great shadows silently meet. A fleet of assassins and dark magic seeking the throat of the opponent. We weren't prepared for that first battle, and the Valsharess outnumbered us in every way. We lost three allied houses and the Seer's chosen General before I was able to drag the army into retreat."

She leaned back against the side of the boat as he spoke, trying to imagine the battle he described and the catastrophic losses it would have entailed. "You probably saved them, then. I'm impressed."

He stopped, considering her words, and finally nodded. "It... has not been easy. There has only been defeat after defeat, but I kept us alive. That is something."

She nodded her agreement. "Against such odds, it certainly is."

"So we ran," he continued, looking pensively out at the water. "I kept us together as much as I could, and the Valsharess nipped at our heels until we were out of drow territory almost entirely. Even in Lith My'athar we are not safe. It is a temporary respite until the Valsharess finishes us off, as the Seer told you. That is why we are so desperate. Few have hope as the Seer does."

Yasha chewed the inside of her cheek for a moment. The back-biting, the sour looks, the matron's daughter all made a kind of sense, given that recent history. "That explains quite a bit, unfortunately."

He glanced meaningfully at her. "I've kept them alive and on the run since that first battle, but only barely. I would truly hate to see them... come to harm." With that he turned away abruptly, obviously intent on ending the conversation.

Yasha, however, was not in the mood to let it end that way. "And what is THAT supposed to mean?"

He looked at her side-long, but merely frowned slightly in answer. From his position between them, Deekin looked up sharply from his notes.

"No, Valen. Don't give me that look. I'm not going to drop this. I'm tired of this constant mistrust surfacing. As a paladin, I'm not accustomed to..."

"Perhaps," he snapped, his eyes still on the dark waters, "your paladin-hood is part of the issue."

"What?" she replied, startled.

Valen's voice was low, and the gaze he turned back on her was cold once more. "Perhaps it is because I've encountered too many paladins that I do not trust you. Perhaps it is because I know what paladins are like."

"Oh, really?" she growled in return. "And what, exactly, are paladins like, pray tell?"

Deekin began to gather up his notes.

Valen crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing. "Arrogant. Self-righteous. Close-minded. Judgmental." He punctuated every word with the smack of his tail on the deck, his voice rising in volume as he spoke. "I know enough of paladins to know they think nothing of betraying those they have deemed Evil, and they seem to mark most of the rest of world as such. Need I go on?"

"Please do," Yasha snarled from between gritted teeth. "I wouldn't dream of keeping you from telling me how I am."

"That's not..." Valen glared at her a moment, his jaw clenching and unclenching. "You make no effort to hide your disdain and disgust of most of the drow in Lith My'athar. I have only known you for a few days. How do I know you will not deem the loss of this encampment a greater good? How much is it the geas that keeps you aiding us? That keeps you from striking down the evil you no doubt see there? What past trespasses have you already committed?"

Yasha seethed for several heartbeats before she could find her voice. "And why do you assume I have done something already?" she hissed.

"You spoke of an oath. A penance to serve those of other goodly faiths. Tell me, what did you do to require such a penance? Harass some hapless peasants? Strike down an innocent priest?"

Yasha leapt to her feet, her hands balled into fists. "How dare you? How DARE you accuse me of such a thing?!" She equally ignored the way the boat shifted uneasily beneath her, and Deekin scurrying off to the side. Her eyes and attention were fixed solely on Valen.

"My lady," he snarled, his hostile tone belying the respectful words. "Sit down before you capsize the boat."

She clenched and unclenched her hands. Part of her knew his words were likely true, and it would be wisdom to sit, but she didn't feel much like being wise and definitely didn't feel like doing anything he told her to. "Do you really believe I've done something like that?"

Valen stood slowly. "I said sit down," he growled, reaching out a hand towards her shoulder.

Yasha angrily smacked it away. "No! I will not!"

Yasha's paladin sense sprang to life with shrill alarm as Valen's eyes glowed red and his lips pulled back from his teeth in a silent snarl. His whole body tensed, and she felt that intangible aura of otherworldliness that usually hung about him thicken into near violent menace. With obvious effort, Valen managed to contain himself to speaking, though his voice was a low rumble. "Would you toss us all into this damned water? By the pits of Hell, woman, sit down!"

Yasha lowered her head, keeping eye contact even as she braced herself. Her heart hammered in her chest, though she couldn't calm herself enough to tell for sure whether it was from anger, fear or something else altogether. "You may have intimidated the drow with your temper, Valen Shadowbreath, but if you think you'll do the same with me, you'd best think again."

Valen's tail lashed back and forth violently, and his words came in short bursts, each one punctuated by a low growl. "I am not trying to intimidate you."

"Then answer my question! Do you really believe I've done something like that?"

They eyed each other, face to face, so close that Yasha could feel each harsh breath he took on her skin and see the faint tremble in his frame. With each breath, however, the trembling faded, as did the unnatural red glow of his eyes. Despite being so close, when he did respond his voice was so low she could barely hear it. "If not, then why are you doing penance?"

Yasha continued to stare hard into his eyes for several more heartbeats. "Because that is what all who serve Torm must do," she growled. "Because my order was indeed once led by people like you describe. And because Torm had to teach them the true meaning of the word 'sacrifice' to redeem them. It is a penance for THEIR actions, and a constant reminder not to repeat their mistakes."

Valen's breath caught in his throat, and the red glow faded completely from his eyes. He closed them then, and looked away. Yasha was in no mood to let him retreat to silence.

"Service. Honor. Loyalty. These virtues, these oaths, I don't just obey them. I believe in them with every fiber of my being. And if I fail to uphold them," she said, her voice rising again. "Then I not only would understand if you took me to task, I would expect it. Tell me how I've been disloyal or unfaithful in anything, and I will apologize." She crashed her fist into her other hand for emphasis. "On bended knee I will apologize. To you," she said, poking her finger into his chest plate. He tensed for a moment when she touched him, but kept his face averted and made no other move. "To the Seer. To anyone else you name that I have wronged," she added, swinging her arm wide.

She lowered her voice again, trying vainly to get her anger under control. "But do not accuse me of things I have not done. No more veiled accusations and vague doubts based on what other people I've never met might have done. I swear to you Valen, I will do without your aid rather than deal with them."

He continued to look away from her. He stood very still. Even his tail was motionless, tucked tightly against his leg. Yasha had time to take several deep breaths, trying to calm herself, before he turned back to her at last.

"Will you sit down now?" he asked quietly, in a firmly controlled voice.

She growled, an inarticulate explosion of frustration, before turning her back on him and planting herself on her seat in the prow of the boat. She remained that way, arms crossed, until they arrived on the Isle of the Maker many hours later. She said not a word the whole time.

--

"Oh! A solid blow," Enserric cried. And so it was. The mechanized creature tossed its bull head once as the glowing sword pierced its chest. The creak and groan of its metallic joints echoed in the hallway as it staggered back and fell to its knees, pulling itself free of the blade. The magical light in its eyes flickered and died as it finally collapsed to the floor.

"Huzzah! And the heroes are victorious once again!"

Yasha smiled wanly at Deekin. Enserric had been correct. Whatever enchantment the blade had, it was much more effective against the golems than she remembered Duty being. That was a good thing, too, for as they explored the first level of this tower, they had fought more golems than she had thought possible to collect in one place. She'd never heard of so many of the magical constructs gathered together before. "Where are they all coming from?"

"It's only to be expected that we should find a large number of golems in the tower of someone known as The Maker from his skill at the craft, though I will admit that I did not expect quite this many either," Valen replied.

She grunted in response, but didn't look at him when he spoke. She didn't feel like it. Instead she led them further down the hall and opened another door, braced for what guardians they might find. The brightly lit room was silent, however, and instead of guardians it was filled with shelves upon shelves of books.

"Do you know what this is?" Enserric exclaimed.

"My first guess would be a library," Yasha replied dryly.

"Of course it's a library, you dolt. But it's not just ANY library. It is a library of a master craftsman of magical constructs. Can you imagine what kinds of information might be here, just waiting to be found?"

Deekin pushed himself past her and through the doorway, his eyes wide. "Lots and lots of stuff on golems, Deekin be thinking."

"We must stop and see what kinds of books he has," Enserric declared.

Yasha narrowed her eyes at the packed shelves. "Why? We're here to speak to The Maker, not loot his library."

"Look around, Boss? This tower be ruins. Deekin thinking he's not living here anymore." He paced through the aisles, eyeing the books greedily.

"Besides," Enserric added. "You're already decimating his defense force. Don't you think he will be a bit more upset about that?"

"You never know about mages and their books," Yasha replied. "And the golems are hardly my fault. I'm just defending myself." She glanced back out the hall at the crumpled form of the minotaur-like construct, and the bits of metal that had come loose from its body during the fight and now littered the floor. "I do hope he doesn't mind the mess, though."

Despite her words, Yasha stepped in to the quiet room and peered around curiously. Bright white torches lit the room, though she suspected strongly that they burned purely on magic and wouldn't leave as much as a smear on any page of paper in the library. Though Drogan had made sure she read on many subjects and several languages, most of the books perched on these shelves were completely indecipherable to her.

"Hold me up higher," Enserric demanded. "I want to get a good look at them!"

Yasha sighed, but began to sweep the blade up and down the bookshelves as she walked by. After a couple of aisles, the sword suddenly jumped in her hands, smacking the bade firmly against one of the books.

"This one! Get this one!" Enserric urged.

"Enserric, we don't have time for me to hold a book up in front of you and turn the pages so you can read," she huffed.

Valen's voice interrupted before the blade could respond. "Yasha! There is another..."

His voice faltered to a stop. He stood in the doorway, his eyes focused down the hallway, looking first puzzled then alarmed.

"Come quickly," he hissed. She moved to join him, but was jerked back by her sword arm.

"Grab the book first," Enserric demanded.

"We don't have time for this Enserric."

"Just grab it."

Yasha was just considering how much effort it would take to pry him away from his chosen tome when a scaly hand reached up and snatched the book out from under the blade.

"Come on, Boss!" Deekin said, scurrying under her arm and towards the door. She rolled her eyes, sighed again, and joined them. Wordlessly, Valen motioned down the hallway as soon as she arrived. Her eyes followed his gesture until they rested on what held his attention.

Another golem had arrived, though it was very different from the stone and metal creatures they had been fighting. Its arms and legs were spindly, and its body lean. Fiercely shining eyes watched them steadily as it knelt over the fallen form of the golem they had just destroyed. Grotesquely huge and thin hands lay with odd gentleness over its companion's side. Both forms glowed eerily in the poorly lit hallway. Yasha wasn't certain what it meant, but she surely didn't like it.

She liked it even less when the fallen golem twitched, and then started to pull itself back off the floor.

"This explains the endless horde we have been facing," Valen commented dryly. "It seems we have merely been fighting the same golems over and over."

"Well, then," Yasha replied grimly, "we know finally what we need to do to stop them for good."

She raised Enserric, who glowed with an electric violet light, and strode out into the hall. The bull-headed golem snorted, and bellowed a mechanical challenged that echoed off the walls. Behind it, the newcomer stood impassively, its only sound a croaked pair of cryptic words.

"Sinth Thesti!"


	12. Chapter 12 Revised

The bull headed construct tossed back its head and bellowed once more. It lowered its horns and charged forward with a great crash of metal on stone, each mighty step causing the ground to shudder beneath Yasha's feet.

"You'd think it would have learned the first time around," Enserric sneered. Yasha grinned slightly as she raised the blade and gripped her shield. It mattered little how quickly the golems learned if she could take down the one that was reanimating the others. Even now, the spindly golem stayed well behind its charging counterpart, apparently content to let the that one take the lead in the fighting. The other golem, however, was the source of the problems.

That one must be her target.

Yasha charged forward, startling Valen out of her way and gaining speed as quickly as her armor would allow. The golem's horns passed inches before her as she spun and side stepped, pulling her shield close and ricocheting off of the wall before taking a swing as the metallic creature pounded past. Her arms and shoulders tingled with a sudden surge of power as the enchantment of her gauntlets took hold. The screech of metal on metal filled the air, and the golem staggered past, driven by its momentum right past her. It turned its head with an almost incredulous look on its face at it looked from her to the great, jagged rent down its side and through one leg. Of course, it was so busy looking back at her, it didn't notice Valen until it was quite too late.

Yasha was already turning, her shield pulled back up defensively, when a deafening clang of Valen's weapon striking home filled the air. Her ears rang, but she shrugged it off, intent on defending herself against her true opponent. She braced, ready for anything. Well, anything except what she found.

The second golem still stood where it had raised the bull-headed one. Its massive hands twitched restlessly at its side, but it made no move, either to attack her, or to heal its still fighting companion. She blinked at it over her shield for a moment, even as the sound of another one of Valen's strikes made the teeth rattle in her head. Hesitantly, she stepped forward, Enserric raised at the ready.

Still, it made no move.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Enserric complained loudly. "Hit it!"

Yasha pulled Enserric back, and closed well within striking range. Then she froze. She bit her lip, considering the golem before her thoughtfully.

Behind her, the sound of fighting abruptly ended with the bone jarring noise of another impact, then the clattering of the metallic thing crashing to the ground once more.

Finally, her enemy moved. As she suspected, it attempted to go past her to the newly fallen golem. She hopped sideways to block its progress, standing defiantly in its path and daring it to attack her.

It did not, much to her frustration.

"Attack it!" Enserric cried again, nearly leaping from her hand towards the creature. She gripped his hilt tightly, but stopped the swing he meant to start.

"I cannot," she snapped. The spindly golem tried to walk past her, and she sidestepped once more to keep herself in its path.

"What? Why not?" His voice was both petulant and surprised.

"Because," she replied from between gritted teeth, "It is neither armed nor attacking me."

Valen's words were short and clipped. "My lady, if you do not, it will continue to resurrect the golems that DO attack us. We cannot wait forever for you to decide to put aside your odd reservations."

Frustration. Anger. Hurt. "Well, why don't you just add that little reservation to the long list of things you hate about paladins in general and me in particular?" she snapped, sparing him only a single angry glance.

She missed the reaction on his face, but not the action that followed it. With a nearly bestial growl, he leapt past her and to the attack, his weapon crashing into the abdomen of the golem, forcing it to stagger backward. Valen stopped his rush in a crouch just beyond his target, and his tail swung wide to help counterbalance his sudden change in direction. He redirected his momentum into another swing and hit the thing powerfully from behind, catching it as it fell into the arc of his attack. It fell forward then and crashed to the ground on its face.

Yasha glared at Valen over the creature's fallen form, her mouth pressed into a thin line. Valen straightened and raised his chin at her, his eyes smoldering. He opened his mouth to speak.

Whatever was on his mind went unsaid, however, as the form between them, glowing and shuddering, drew their attention. The golem pushed itself off of the floor with surprising agility. Its crushed side expanded quickly, like a bellows filling with air, mending at a tremendous rate.

Valen snarled something harsh as the creature turned towards him, swearing in some language Yasha had never heard before. He pulled his weapon back, preparing to strike as the construct raised its arms towards him.

The thing threatened one of her allies. Yasha was now free to strike.

She did, with all of her strength. Enserric's blade bit deeply into the creature's side, and it threw its hands up, abandoning whatever attacks it had planned to bring against the tiefling. Yasha readied for its counter-attack only half-heartedly, for she could not drag her eyes way from the injury she had just caused: an injury that was closing before her eyes. By the time the golem finished turning and faced her once more, the great gash was completely gone.

"Sinth Thesti," it said hollowly, as it lifted its arms in her direction.

"Did you see that?" Enserric gasped.

Yasha wished she hadn't. "Are you sure about that power increase you got Enserric?" she asked, backing away from the golem slowly. "Doesn't look like you're quite as effective as you were bragging."

Enserric grumbled incoherently in reply as he ducked under the golem's limbs, attacking again and again. The results never changed. The golem endured injury after injury with apparent indifference, and the wounds closed almost before she could land another. Valen continued to try to hammer the golem down, but though it staggered frequently it never seemed to react otherwise. A bolt from Deekin's crossbow hit true, only to be promptly pushed back out by the creature's healing body. Yasha was watching another great gash close along the golem's legs, wondering where the monster's weakness might be, when Valen raised his voice to her once more.

"My lady," he growled, pulling himself out of the creature's reach as it staggered from another of his blows. "This battle gains us nothing. We must retreat."

Yasha felt a frustrated snarl twitch on her lips and clenched her teeth against it. The creature must be defeated, else they would face a never-ending wave of the other constructs. Yet, she had to admit, Valen was right. They weren't accomplishing anything against the construct as they were.

"Torm's Blade!" she swore. Staggering back, she struggled to regain her breath and looked for an opening to flee.

_Flee? Never again! I am a paladin of Torm._

Yasha paused, indecisive, as her common sense wrestled with her pride. The decision was taken from he as golem's hand shot out and caught her while she hesitated. Its long fingers curled tightly around her like iron bands, pinning her sword arm to her body. Yasha struggled vainly to free herself as, with strength that belied its spindly form, it lifted her bodily off of the ground. She closed her eyes as her feet left the floor and braced herself to be either crushed or thrown.

Neither happened. Instead, the whole world seemed to sway. Yasha snapped her eyes back open. The golem was walking forward, holding her before it like a doll.

Or a shield.

Yasha grimaced to herself. She made a very effective shield indeed. Deekin immediately pulled up his crossbow, unwilling to risk another shot. Valen edged around the golem warily, eyeing them both with frustration. He also stayed his hand, however.

The golem didn't take many steps before it suddenly dropped her. Yasha's knees buckled at the unexpected collision with the ground, and she scrambled to return to her feet. She shook the blood back into her sword arm, groaning to herself as she realized what had happened. The thing had forced her back several yards. It could now reach its fallen comrade and heal it.

That was, of course, exactly what the thing was starting to do.

"Yasha," Valen said, plainly exasperated. "We must retreat. Now."

She scowled at him, but didn't hesitate this time. The three fled together before the minotaur-like golem could recover again. Yasha kept her head down as she ran, repeating over and over to herself the connection between discretion and valor.

Deekin, lightly armored, quick on his feet, and with a head start, was first to round the corner of the broad, main hall. Yasha rounded it herself only just in time to see the kobold dash down a smaller side hall. She had no time to question or stop him, and still had the presence of mind to keep from yelling after his retreating back. So, she did the only thing she could do; she lowered her head and tried to pick up her pace.

Thus, she nearly flattened Deekin as she turned the last corner in the narrower, L shaped hall. She skidded to a stop, confused by a momentary impression of the end of the hall lumbering towards her. She had only a moment to react when the metallic arm separated itself from the shadowed form, striking at Deekin with a speed that belied its size. She did the first thing that came to mind when she saw the bard in danger. She pushed him out of the way and threw herself between him and the incoming strike.

When the thing hit her with the strength of a dragon's kick, she had a split second to wish something else had come to mind. Then she made rather abrupt contact with the wall and had several moments when nothing really came to mind at all. Something screeched metallic protest, and pain crushed the breath from her chest. She thought she heard someone yelling, but couldn't make out their words over the sudden incessant ringing in her ears. The metallic fist appeared again out of the red haze that filled her vision, and she allowed her knees to finally buckle and dropped to the floor. The wall behind her shuddered from the impact and loose stones pelted the top of her head. She got the impression of something huge moving to her left, as the great arm pulled away from above her. She sucked in a dust filled breath and threw herself to the right.

Yasha rolled, trying to get her feet under her. A hand gripped her upper arm, helping her stand. She blinked away more of the red haze, and saw the huge, silvery construct that hunched before her, filling the hall. There was a voice saying something again, but the ringing drowned it out. She felt herself being pulled away, and followed. The pace picked up. They were running.

They were fleeing. Again.

She started swearing; whispered curses on every shallow, painful breath she took. A door was slammed shut, and she was left to prop herself up on a wall. She slid down it as her head continued to pound and her chest ached. At some point she stopped cursing, and wrapped her hands around her head. Her hands brushed the hilt of something strapped to her back. A pulse ran through her at the contact. A sweet, pure power tingled through her skin. Her mind cleared from some of the fog, and she grasped at the fleeting feeling and clung to it. The pain in her head fled before the power as it trickled from her hands. Like cool water, it ran through her neck and throat and poured into her chest, quieting her desperate breathing and dulling the pain. She began to think again.

"Deekin?" Her voice sounded shaky, but at least the ringing and stopped so she could hear it.

"Yes, Boss?" a querulous voice answered.

"You alright?"

"The kobold is fine," another, deeper voice interrupted. "You, however, I'm not so certain of."

Yasha let her hands slide slowly from the back of her head as she looked up. She blinked wearily until her eyes focused.

"Valen?" The tiefling knelt before her. He tilted his head when she said his name, and a few strands hair pulled free of his warrior tie to fall around his face.

"Yes." His eyes narrowed briefly as he examined her face. "How do you feel?"

"I've felt better," she said, letting her hands slip down and settle over the dent in her chest plate. "But I've felt worse too. Just give the room a moment to stop spinning, and I should be fine."

He frowned at her a moment before nodding briefly. He stood so fast it made her head spin again, so she closed her eyes and held very still until the floor beneath her felt stable again. She listened to both Deekin and Valen's footsteps as they wandered the room. Once she heard the heavier steps of a golem outside the door, but its steady pace didn't hesitate for a moment as it passed their hiding place.

"If we're just going to sit here anyway, might I have a look at the book?" Yasha winced. Why did Enserric always seem to speak so loudly?

"What book?" she grumbled.

"Oh," came Deekin's voice from across the room, "I think he means this book, Boss. The one Deekin gots from the library, remember?"

"Of course that's the book I meant. How hard did you hit your head anyway?"

Yasha grunted, and felt around for Enserric's hilt. "I don't recall, which is either good or bad. And why do you feel the sudden desire for some light reading?"

"Well, I happen to think it will give us a clue about controlling the golem problem we seem to have," he replied arrogantly.

"You think he's going to leave his 'Handy Instructions For Controlling My Golem Army' book just laying around in the library?" she responded, a tad more testily than she meant.

"Of course not," he snapped back. "However, mages DO tend to choose their magical command words from phrases of obscure languages, and this just happens to be a book on an obscure language written by the mage in question. Hence, it is logical that it might be a language he studied a great deal and may use for controlling his creations. Must I explain everything?"

Yasha sighed and leaned her head back, taking several deep breaths. "Alright. That does make sense," she finally admitted.

"Of course it does."

She gritted her teeth and opened her eyes. Her eyesight was not nearly as blurry, and the act of looking around the room no longer made her stomach quiver in protest. Her eyes found Deekin just across the room. He had the book Enserric spoke of in his claws, and was flipping through it with sudden interest.

She smiled to herself wanly, and levered herself up against the wall until she was standing. Her head was definitely improving, though her ribs still hurt. Holding Enserric up against her side, she walked slowly across the floor and handed the sword down to the kobold. "Why don't you two look through the book together, eh Deekin?"

"Sure thing, Boss."

She was just turning to look for Valen when she heard a loud, electrical snapping sound, and a grunt of pain from the tiefling. She walked as quickly as she was able to his side. He turned to her as she approached, rubbing his hand with a slightly embarrassed look on his face.

"I'm fine," he assured her before she could ask. "I should know better than to press random buttons on magical panels," he added, waving his hand towards a large bank of dials and buttons.

The panel itself only held her attention for a moment, however. Her eyes were quickly drawn to two huge, glowing numbers floating over the floor a few yards away.

"Were those here the whole time?" she asked, puzzled.

"No," Valen replied. He motioned to two dials on the panel. "They appeared after I turned these."

"Is that when you got shocked?"

"No. I got shocked when I pushed this button," he said, almost sheepishly.

She tried to smile at him. "Well, let's not push that one again, then, shall we?"

He raised an eyebrow at her archly, but couldn't quite keep a tentative smile from his face.

She looked at the giant glowing numbers, listening to Deekin and Enserric quietly bicker over how quickly the kobold was or was not turning the pages. Then she opened her eyes wider, and grinned to herself.

"Gentlemen," she said, turning towards the others, "Why don't you try to find the section in that book concerning numbers. I'm thinking that might give us just the clue we need."


	13. Chapter 13 Revised

"I am indispensable. In. De. Spensable. Come on admit it."

Yasha pursed her lips and looked down at Enserric a moment, before turning the whet stone in her hands and starting work on the edge again. "I think of it more as a team effort," she replied blandly.

"Team effort? Team effort she says. And who, pray tell, thought to grab that book in the first place?" he demanded haughtily.

"You did, of course," she said, keeping the whetstone running along the blade's edge. "But Valen figured out how to use the machine, I suggested you look for something to do with numbers, and Deekin found the right section and figured out that the golems were saying the number pairs that we could use to control them."

"None of that would have been possible if I hadn't thought of the book to begin with."

Yasha looked up from the blade at the others. Deekin had stacks of parchment scattered around him, with an ink-tipped quill poised above a half empty page. He had paused, though, and was looking up at her with bright-eyed interest. Valen sat with his back to the wall, preparing to get some sleep. His penchant for sleeping upright when camping in dangerous situations seemed odd, but she figured one could develop odd habits growing up fighting in the Abyss. The tiefling didn't appear to be paying much attention to the conversation, but then again he just looked like he'd just laid his head back against the wall and could open his eyes and wake at any moment. She turned her attention back to the sword. "You're not much of a team player, Enserric. You know that?"

"I just want to make you admit that I have been indispensable on this mission. There's no reason for you to be hostile," he added, nearly sniffing.

"Why do you want me to admit that? And for the record, I'm not being hostile. You've seen me hostile, and this is not it. In fact, if I remember correctly, you were the one being hostile. Or don't you remember attacking me?"

"What? When did I attack you?"

Yasha raised her eyebrows and looked down at the blade. "You don't remember leaping right out of my hands and turning on me?"

"What? That was not my fault, and you know it. Can I help it that this crazy golem making mage had invented a magical device that could control weapons from afar?"

"Well, one would have thought you could have helped it somewhat, Enserric. Or at least tried a little harder not to hit me."

"I did try to warn you from which direction I was coming."

"Thanks ever so much, Enserric."

"I'm still a bit upset you destroyed that machine. I would have loved to see how he did that."

"Alas, Enserric, at the time I felt it more important that make sure you stopped attacking me. If I had known the workings of the machine was that important to you, I would have, of course, laid down my life so that you would gain access to that knowledge."

"Bah. This is neither here nor there. Why is it so difficult for you to admit that you are better off wielding me than that precious holy avenger of yours?"

Yasha frowned and stayed silent. She wasn't going to even try to explain to Enserric that it seemed nearly sacrilegious to say such a thing. Besides, sniping with Enserric was helping her vent some of the little knot of anger she was holding in her chest.

She looked up at the kobold sitting across from her. "Deekin, in all of your bardic lore, have you ever heard of a talking sword that whined quite this much?"

Deekin started to look thoughtful, but did not get a chance to reply before Enserric exploded. "Whine? Whine?! You insufferable... I am certainly not whining. And why are you doing that?"

"Doing what?" she asked, puzzled.

"Using that whetstone on me. I'll have you know that I haven't a knick or a dullness on me."

Yasha paused and ran her finger along the edge of the blade. He was right. Despite the fact that most of the enemies they had battled on ths tower had been made of either metal or stone, Enserric's fine crafting and powerful magic had kept him both sharp and whole. Using the whetstone on her sword before she went to sleep was a habit, though, and she usually used the time to allow herself to think. Right now, she really felt she needed to think. Then something else occurred to her.

"Does it hurt?"

"What?"

"Using the whetstone on you. Does it hurt?"

He paused for a moment. "Well, no. It doesn't hurt, really. But it is annoying."

"Ah. And I should avoid annoying you?" she asked as innocently as she could.

"Yes!"

Yasha shook her head and slid Enserric back into his scabbard, much to his relief, apparently. He fell silent, in any case, which indicated to Yasha that he was either content or angry. She looked around the large room, breathing deeply to try to focus her mind without the soothing rhythm of using a whetstone to aid her. Across the hall, another small metallic golem trod by. Most could not resist the urge to peer at their corner curiously; though they were courteous enough not to wander too close while Yasha and her friends were preparing to rest.

The paladin gnawed on her lower lip. Curious. Courteous. These were not words she would usually use when describing magical constructs. She could not deny, however, that the golems they had met on this floor were very different from the ones they had encountered on the previous one. They had personalities. They apparently had feelings, hopes, and jealousies. There was even a full-fledged rivalry between two groups, one that wished to stay and hoped for the return of their creator, while the other were rebels who felt abandoned and justified in trying to strike out on their own. She couldn't think of a situation less like what she expected in the fortress of this ancient golem maker.

They had spoken with the leaders of both camps, and it seemed that they would likely need to side with one or the other if they were to gain aid from any of the powerful golem factions. Yasha still hoped that they might find the Maker, or some proof of his intent, and thus find some way to make peace between the two sides.

Valen had scoffed at the idea, suggesting that particular hope was, to put it mildly, a tad too optimistic a goal. The little surge of sullenness growled in her again. Sure it was optimistic, but there was nothing wrong with that, was there?

She sighed and rubbed her face. Her thoughts were running in circles. Perhaps if she went to sleep, things would seem clearer. She nodded to Deekin, who was taking first watch, and curled up under her blanket. It took her quite some time to still her mind enough to sleep.

Yasha woke up angry. She tried to rid herself of the tight, heavy feeling before she said her morning prayers. She prayed to Tyr for clarity of judgment. She prayed to Ilmater for patience in her time of trial. She even prayed to Tymora for a little bit of good luck for a change. When she prayed to her patron, Torm, she did feel the cool, invigorating strength of presence and power. The tingle of his blessing lingered after she had finished her prayers.

But so did that little, glowing ember of anger.

She shook herself as she started pulling on her armor, and tried once more to focus on the more immediate concerns of the golem factions and how to deal with them. She wondered if it said anything about her that she felt safest bedding down near the rebel faction. Of course, the leader of the rebel faction wanted a power source so that they could leave. The leader of the loyalist had wanted the rebel leader's head.

No doubt Valen is surprised. He probably took it for granted that I would automatically side with the traditionalists, regardless.

Yasha scowled at herself again. That was unfair and she knew it. Valen had said no such thing. Indeed, though he seemed a bit pensive and expressed some misgivings about the viability of searching for the Maker, he had been nothing but courteous and helpful since their little discussion on the boat. She pondered this, and felt the flicker of anger get smothered by confusion and guilt.

That doesn't give him the right to say what he said on the boat, though.

"Well, that little bout of rationality didn't last very long," Yasha grumbled to herself softly. She sighed. "I hate waking up angry."

Deekin, who was just curling up for his turn to rest, looked up at her sharply. "Deekin was just doing what you said, Boss. You said you wanted little Deekin to wake you up early, so..."

"Sorry Deekin," she interrupted quietly, running her fingers through her hair in agitation. "I'm not angry at you. I went to sleep angry and woke up the same way."

"Oh," the kobold said, obviously relieved. "Deekin thoughts you was just feeling bad from the fish stew last night. Deekin is glad that's not the case. You don't want to know what happened last time someone gots sick from Deekin's fish stew."

Yasha was pretty sure he was right, so decided not to pursue that thought any further. She looked down at her hands for a moment, then shook her head and went back to pulling on her armor. They were both silent for a while before Deekin pulled himself up on his elbows and piped up again.

"Deekin can't help but wonder, Boss. Why were you angry when you went to sleep? You still mads about the geas spell?"

She froze in the midst of pulling on her leggings. Was there some rational way she could explain her hurt feelings? Doubtful. She forced her hands to go back to their work, though they moved stiffer and more mechanically than before.

"A little, yes," she finally admitted.

The kobold mulled over her response for a while. "Deekin can see that," he finally pronounced. Then he tilted his head at her. "But it wasn't bothering you this much before, Boss. You waking up angry often lately and not telling Deekin?"

Yasha pursed her lips but continued to focus on her hands as she shrugged her armor's padding over her shoulders. "I've been trying not to go to sleep angry in the first place. I grew up being told that it poisons the spirit to do so."

The idea seemed to strike the little bard as fascinating. "You think that's true, Boss?"

She didn't have to think about that one for long. "Yes."

He considered her for a bit. "But you didn't say, Boss. Why'd you go to sleep angry last night, if you tryings not to?"

Yasha had everything on but her cuirass, now. That was still in the hands of the leader of the rebel golems, as he had volunteered to help remove the dent his 'brother' had put in it when it had tried to make her one with the wall upstairs. Out of armor to put on, she no longer had a good excuse to look elsewhere.

She met his eyes and smiled wanly. "Perhaps I should have gone with the 'bad fish stew' excuse." She shook her head as Deekin frowned. "But I couldn't lie to you like that, Deekin," she added.

"Who are you mad at, boss?"

"I didn't say I was mad at anyone else, Deekin," she replied as evenly as she could.

"Not little Deekin?"

"No, I'm not mad at you Deekin. I already said that."

"You mad at the golems?"

"No."

"The Boatman?"

"No."

"You mad at the Seer?"

"Certainly not, Deekin." Yasha snapped. She was aware that she was starting to have trouble keeping her voice low.

"Nathyrra?"

"Deekin, really. Please stop."

"You mad at yourself?" he asked.

Yasha looked at him sharply, but there was nothing in his glittering eyes but open, guileless curiosity. She chewed on that idea for a moment. "Partially, perhaps."

His eyes glittered as he stared at her, his reptilian head still propped on his scaly hands. "Partially, Boss?"

She raised her eyebrows and tried her best to give him a regal, I-don't-want-to talk look. It didn't work, of course.

"You mad at Valen?"

Yasha avoided looking at the said sleeping tiefling, and made an impatient clucking sound with her tongue. "Shouldn't you be getting some sleep? I'm ready to take my turn at watch," she whispered.

He frowned, and his eyes went from glittering to morose in a heartbeat. "You don't want to talk to little Deekin, boss?"

"I didn't say that Deekin. I..." She frowned down at the pouting kobold. Then she looked around the room impatiently, and waved him with her. "Come on."

His enthusiasm returned abruptly as he hopped up and followed her away from their corner. She pulled him far enough that she felt certain they were out of Valen's hearing range, but close enough they could still keep watch. She knelt before Deekin so that they were face to face and took a deep breath.

"Yes, I'm still mad at Valen," she began. Then she paused and considered the kobold for a moment before adding, "Do you think I'm being unreasonable?"

He tilted his head at her. It felt odd to talk to him face to face like this. "You say you don't want to wake up angry because it's bad for the soul, and you say you don't want to go to sleep angry, and then ask little Deekin if it's bad you're angry? I don't know, Boss. You seems to think it's bad, so Deekin will go along with you."

Yasha opened her mouth to protest, and snapped it closed again. His words did sound a lot like what she had said, though she hadn't thought of it quite that way before.

"You don't think I'm a narrow-minded or haughty, do you Deekin?" She hated how plaintive she sounded, but needed to ask the question.

"No Boss! You've always been very kind to little Deekin, anyway."

She nodded, and smiled slightly to herself. She wondered if she should be concerned that she put so much store in what the little kobold thought of her, but couldn't deny that his simple words made her feel better. "Well, what do you think I should do about being angry then?" she finally asked.

Deekin thought about it for a bit. "Well, the old boss would have just eaten someone that made him that mad."

Yasha bit her tongue on the first response that came to mind. Then she grinned, shaking her head. "I'm pretty sure that's not an option I want to go with, Deekin."

"Well, Deekin didn't think so, really, Boss. What you want to do?"

"I want to prove he's wrong."

"Good idea," he responded, nodding. "Go with that one, Boss."

Yasha frowned. "But how am I supposed to do that?"

Deekin frowned back. He pulled a claw across his front teeth as he rolled his eyes in thought for a few moments. "Deekin thinks that if you are as nice to Valen as you are to little Deekin, he'll just see that he is wrong eventually, Boss."

Yasha rocked back on her heels at the thought. She wasn't sure she could deal with the tiefling with the same unselfconscious camaraderie she had with the kobold. Though, perhaps it didn't really merit examining to closely why that was. Perhaps it was better to just try and be friendly, and forget all about what he said. After all, it was quite possible that he had bad experiences before that unfairly soured his opinion of paladins, but that didn't mean anything. After all, he barely knew her, and he would likely change his mind once he did. Deekin was right, surely.

"Oh!" Deekin suddenly squealed. "Maybe he'll start writing a book about you then, too! Though Deekin hopes not," he said, suddenly looking concerned.

Yasha could barely control a guffaw at the thought of Valen writing a book about her. Her words were a bit strangled, therefore, when she replied. "I don't think that will be a problem, Deekin."

"Promise little Deekin that he gets exclusive rights, Boss!"

He seemed quite upset, so Yasha tried to very hard to seem solemn. "I promise, Deekin. You have my word of honor on it."

His relief was plain and he grinned toothily again. "Thanks Boss."


	14. Chapter 14 Revised

The Maker was a lich.

The undeniable fact repeated bitterly and remorselessly through Yasha's head as she scowled at the floating skull. Her hopes of bartering for the golems' freedom or getting The Maker's aid in resolving their differences were gone. The Maker's cold-hearted dismissal of their fate was proof enough of that.

Of course, there was also the fact that he had coolly declared that he would kill Yasha and her friends as well.

Yasha gritted her teeth, bracing herself against yet another icy wind the thing conjured, ducking behind her shield as the razor sharp shards of ice flew through the air all around. The Maker had forced her into a life or death struggle, and that was what she had to deal with now. Other thoughts could wait.

The magical shield she had scrambled to conjure about herself glowed with streaks of blue as it absorbed and redirected the worst of the biting cold, but she felt the ice impact on her more physical shield with bone jarring force. When the blast of ice finally stopped, she took a great gasp of the stingingly cold air and leapt forward. A disembodied skull was all that remained of the Maker after centuries of unlife, but he obviously still held incredible power at his command. The space around the skull shimmered and seethed with magical energy, shielding it from all harm.

But overcoming such things was what Duty was forged to do.

Yasha swung the frost-rimmed holy sword, and it rung with divine challenge as it crashed into and through another one of the Maker's magical shields. The sphere dissipated with an angry flash of light, but she couldn't push Duty through to the lich skull within. He laughed as her arm was thrown back once again, and she realized too late that it was summoning another spell.

But Valen launched himself at the thing then, taking advantage of the creature's focus on Yasha and its weakened magical shields. In truth, she saw his weapon thunder through the Maker's shields before she saw the tiefling. The magical barriers flickered and strained, but only managed to deflect part of the powerful blow.

The Maker flew back through the air, screeching in outraged pain. The lich wailed, a high, keening sound that tore into Yasha's ears, before gathering his magic about him again. Fire leapt from the stone floor and cascaded off of the ceiling in a searing rain. The frost on her armor turned to hissing steam in a painful instant. Around her, the elemental protection spell wavered, struggling to deflect the sudden heat. Then, with one last flicker, it buckled entirely, and the flames' full fury struck her. The protective enchantments of her armor and shield kept her from being roasted alive in those first few moments, but she knew she would not last long. She lunged forward again, throwing caution to the winds. The fight must end soon, one way or the other.

Heat induced tears blurred her vision, but she heard Duty's defiant clang and felt the last of The Maker's magics give. Deekin's hoarse shout rose above the roar of flames and the dying tones of Duty's ring as crossbow bolts whined through the air at the apparently defenseless skull. She watched blearily from behind her shield as the bolts crashed into the bone. They seemed to do little physical damage, but on impact their magics awakened, and lightning crackled and arched over the floating skull. The Maker cursed at the kobold, though the words held more surprise than magical force behind them. She saw his eyes glow fiercely, even through the tears in her eyes and the flickering flames that covered everything around her. Another swipe by Duty managed to do little more than scrape against the enchanted bone.

The Maker's jaws opened again, and Yasha felt the tingle of deadly necromancy start to form around her, coalescing with dark power that seemed to dim even the heat of the flames. She steeled her will against the foul death magics, drawing strength even from the panic that gripped her, as she felt the power rise to a numbing crescendo. Her lungs struggled to breath. Her heart struggled to beat. Her mind and soul struggled to retain its grip on these battles; to ignore the call of the darkness around her. Engrossed in a primal struggle of her will against raw death, Yasha was unable to focus on the physical battle she was sure was still going on behind the thickening veil of shadow.

Then Valen emerged from the shadow and flames, bringing his weapon down with crushing force on the Maker. The deadly spell around her wavered. Yasha gasped, welcoming even the baking air into her starved lungs. She barely saw the tiefling's follow up blow, but she clearly heard the sharp crack of the lich's skull as it crashed to the ground, crushed between the Valen's weapon and the unyielding stone of the floor.

Another screech rent the air. The skull erupted in raw energy which then then folded and collapsed into itself in a display of brilliant light and deafening sound. The death magic leaked from the fractured skull was sucked away into the vortex where the Maker once was, and the numbing power gave way once more to the flames and heat. But that too was being drawn into the dramatic death throws of the lich, draining away into a fiery tornado.

As the flames thinned and Yasha's vision returned, she saw Valen once more, grimly watching the dramatic demise of the lich. The dying flames highlighted the otherworldly cast to his face, and his eyes flickered in the light from icy blue to fierce red and back again as he scowled down at his fallen foe. His stance was still tense and ready, and his tail lashed in and out of the fire behind him. When he had spoken of his time fighting in the Abyss, Yasha had found it difficult to grasp, though she didn't doubt the truth of what he claimed. Seeing him then, wreathed in flame, she caught a glimpse of the fierce warrior among demons he once was. For a moment, she felt the hair on her neck rise, and her instincts for battle pull her sword arm ready.

The moment passed as unexpectedly as it came. Even as the last of the fiery magic died, Valen's shoulders sagged and, with a groan, he collapsed heavily to his knees. Yasha willed aside her disquiet, sheathed Duty, and pushed herself painfully forward, landing on her knees before the tiefling with only slightly more grace than he had just shown.

"Are you badly wounded?" she asked, stiffly pulling her gauntlets from her hands. His eyes were closed, and he gave little resistance when she put her hand under his chin and lifted it so she could see his face. His skin was very warm, and in patches it was angry red against his natural pallor. More than that, though, he kept his eyes closed, and his expression was exhausted and worn.

"Well," she said after a moment, "when you say you have some resistance to fire you surely mean it. You're only a little more burned than I, though I had Torm's magic to protect me from the worst of it." When he did not respond, she added. "Still, we both got a little crispy around the edges, I'm afraid."

He opened his eyes then, giving her a pained look as he pulled his head away from her hand. It could have been a reaction to her poor attempt at humor, or some thought of his that he didn't feel like sharing, but Yasha chose to take it that he felt worse than he looked.

"I don't have the power of spells a dedicated cleric might have," she began carefully, "but I can offer some healing if..."

He shook his head, wincing slightly. "That will not be necessary."

"It will take only a moment," she replied, frowning.

"You should save your healing ability for an emergency," he answered, straightening his shoulders. "For now, however, I am fine. With a little rest, I will be ready to continue."

"I suppose you're right," she agreed, trying to smother the strange disappointment she felt at his refusal. Her power to heal did take a lot of energy, just as he said, and it was unlikely that she could summon it up once more without resting. She stood quickly, determined to ignore the discomfort of her own aches and pains as well. Instead, she turned from Valen and towards the remains of the Maker. Planting her hands on her hips, she scowled down at them as Deekin approached. It was safer to scowl at the now inanimate skull, after all.

"How are you Deekin? You alright?" she asked as the kobold came to stand beside her.

"Deekin's just fine boss. Though, Deekin was wondering how you spell 'pyrotechnics'."

Yasha felt a grin tug at her lips and shook her head slightly. "I'm not sure at the moment, Deekin. Maybe the Maker has a dictionary somewhere you can take with you." Yasha snorted and frowned again. "Shouldn't he have a phylactery or something?"

"Boss?"

"Assuming he was a lich" she explained, waving at the ground where the Maker had fallen, "wouldn't he have had some sort of gem or valuable item where his soul was kept safe? I read somewhere that was the only way to truly destroy a lich, anyway."

Deekin tilted his head, making a low humming noise in the back of his throat as he considered her question. "Deekin's not sure, boss. Deekin always heard that lich's had bodies too. Maybe he hid it with his arms and legs maybe?"

"Or perhaps," Valen added from behind her, "he was not a true lich. Or was some other form of undead altogether?"

"Perhaps," she responded, sighing. "I don't know. I've never killed one before. Destroyed one," she corrected after a moment's thought. "I suppose he was dead already."

Shrugging, she scanned the room. It was packed with shelves, crates, chests and tables stuffed with various paraphernalia appropriate to a wizard's laboratory and living space. "It will take some time, but we should search the place carefully, just in case. Then we can get some rest and," she paused, sighing as her eyes came to rest one again on the broken skull. "And then we should go back upstairs and speak with the two golem leaders."

She poked the remains of The Maker with the toe of her boot. Frustration and anger welled up once again.

"You," she fumed, pointing her finger accusingly at the skull. "Why couldn't you have been more reasonable? Or at least alive? But no. You had to go and be a cold hearted, self-absorbed, undead twit. How am I going to explain this to the loyalist faction?"

"You realize you are berating a broken pile of bone shards, do you not?" Valen asked, looking at her oddly.

"Yes," she snapped, folding her arms across her chest and glaring at him.

"Deekin didn't get an answer the the question he had for the Maker either, Boss!"

Yasha furrowed her brows at Deekin. "What question was that?"

"You don't remember, boss? Deekin was wondering if he always floated around like that, or if he sometimes gets tired and rolls around too."

Yasha blinked at him, stunned for a few heartbeats. She looked from Deekin, to the skull, then back to Deekin again, struggling with the petty mischievousness that suddenly gripped her. That wasn't a battle she felt up to. She took a brief step back, then brought the inside of her boot against the skull, sending it skittering across the floor, to come to a grinning rest against one of the pillars across the room.

"There's your answer, Deekin. He rolls sometimes."

* * *

"Oh, NOW you need me again."

"Enserric, I'm really not in the mood for this right now," Yasha sighed, slipping Duty back up into the scabbard strapped to her back. "Besides, I thought you said the essence of undead tasted vile."

"It does, but that is beside the point. You just pack me away while you fight The Maker, but when you think you might be facing golems again, out I come." The sword fairly vibrated in agitation.

"That was the idea," Yasha admitted. Their rest on The Maker's laboratory floor was over, and Yasha could find no further excuses for putting off returning upstairs to face the golems.

"Though I hope it doesn't come to a fight with them," she added, more to herself than to Enserric. Deekin was stuffing the last of several sheaves of paper into a scroll case, mumbling to himself about liches and golems and the proper way to spell 'apprehensiveness'. Valen, meanwhile, tied shut his pack, and hoisted it over his shoulder. Then he turned to her.

"You still plan to try to talk to Aghaaz?"

Yasha stared down at Enserric's bare blade. Valen hadn't asked if she expected trouble, but he didn't need to. The very fact that she planned to carry Enserric at her hip instead of Duty said all that needed to be said on that account. Dread filled her at the confrontation to come. She looked up at Valen anyway, determined. "I think it is worth trying. I think they need to know the truth of their Maker, if nothing else."

He returned her look with an unreadable expression for a few heartbeats before nodding. "I agree."

For some reason, the tension in her stomach loosened just a little bit.

"So there's still a good chance that I'll spend the rest of the day stuck in that smelly scabbard?" Enserric demanded.

Yasha looked back down at the sword, and managed an actual smile. "If we're lucky. Yes."


	15. Chapter 15 Revised

Yasha tried hard to keep her shoulders squared and her gait relaxed and confident as she led Deekin and Valen down the winding hall that led to Aghaaz, the leader of those golems loyal to the Maker. Periodically they passed by alcoves where great, metallic guards flanked them, which seemed to be a much more ominous in her current mood. She tried hard not to peer at them too much as they walked by. It wouldn't help her case to seem like she was looking for trouble, after all.

Many of Aghaaz's golems were neither the metallic creations they had encountered above nor those that made up the majority of the followers of Ferron, his counterpart on the rebels' side. Aghaaz himself was a motley combination of body parts whose source Yasha preferred not to dwell on. The only thing she was fairly certain of was that no humans gave their life for Aghaaz's birth since he was so huge, which was a small consolation really.

Still, that did not stop her stomach from clenching and her blood running cold when the thing grinned at her approach.

"Back again?" the great golem said, turning from some conference with his lieutenants. "What do you want now, human female?"

If she could read anything into the alien face of the golem, it was that he suspected she returned with the head of his rival and gloried in that suspicion. It was certainly true he had no idea what news she actually brought. Yasha cleared her throat and took a deep breath.

"I have come with news of The Maker."

His grin disappeared fairly quickly, and all around her the room shushed as the golems turned their full attention on her.

"What? What news could you possibly bring little human?" Aghaaz replied, his eyes narrowing.

"The Maker is dead." The silence in the room became heavy and charged. Yasha glanced around briefly, trying to make eye contact with the other golems, both to express her sympathy at dashing their hopes and to judge their reactions. Aghaaz quickly regained her attention, however.

"That is not possible," he replied firmly, shaking his head. "The Maker is eternal, his might everlasting. To say such a thing is blasphemy."

Yasha nodded slightly to herself. That was an understandable reaction to such news.

"I'm afraid to say it's true. He willingly abandoned you all, and embraced undeath. When I attempted to negotiate, he attacked us, and we were forced to destroy him. He never intended to return for you, and does not deserve your continued loyalty. "

Aghaaz's lips curled into a feral snarl. He stepped forward, bending his towering frame so his face was close to hers. Yasha forced herself to remain calm and steadfast as he began to speak in a harsh whisper.

"I am the High Priest of The Maker. If he dies, my claim to power dies with him."

Yasha blinked at him, confused. That was not what she expected to hear. She saw Valen move from the corner of her eye as he leaned forward.

"A word of advice, Yasha: those in power don't enjoy seeing their positions threatened!" he whispered in her ear.

Yasha turned her puzzled gaze on him, her lips parted in exasperation. She looked between Valen and Aghaaz as full comprehension began to dawn. The golem's next whispered words confirmed her suspicions.

"I have been appointed to rule until The Maker returns. The Maker cannot die, but if he chooses never to return, then my rule shall go on forever. Now do you understand?"

Yasha gritted her teeth, and felt her nostrils flare as she sucked in a steadying breath. Outraged anger flared as her confusion died. Aghaaz didn't care if The Maker died. He didn't care about knowing the truth at all. For all she knew, he knew of The Maker's decisions and undead fate long before. He was quite willing to continue giving his followers false hope and purpose, as long as he remained in power.

Yasha didn't bother whispering her reply.

"I will NOT help spread a lie," she announced grimly and at the top of her voice. "The Maker IS dead."

Beside her, she saw Valen tense and reach for his weapon, while on the other side Deekin stepped close and also prepared. She felt Enserric tremble in her hand as she laid her hand to his hilt. Aghaaz rose up to his full height, the expression on his face terrible. His voice bellowed across the chamber.

"Destroy these heretics. Destroy them in the name of the Immortal Maker!"

To Yasha's disappointment and frustration, not one of Aghaaz's followers thought to question his command. To the last one, they fought ferociously to the death. Yasha expected no quarter, nor did she have the chance to offer any. At least, she thought bitterly when it was over, their leader died with them.

* * *

She retrieved the Power Source from Aghaaz's ruined body, the one item that would allow Ferron and his followers the freedom to leave this accursed place, and brought it to the rebel leader. He took the Power Source slowly, almost reverently, from her hands when she offered it.

"I cannot thank you enough for this. You have given us the key to our freedom."

Yasha tried to focus on the golem's words of thanks. She tried to think of something nobly humble and heroic to say, but all she could manage was a small smile at his gratitude. From beside her, however, Valen spoke up.

"We may have given you the key," he said solemnly, "but you must open the door and pass through it yourself. Freedom never comes without struggle and effort."

Yasha sighed. That was exactly the kind of thing she had wanted to say, if she would have thought of it.

Ferron focused on the tiefling, his metallic face unreadable. He nodded slightly, however, before he continued, "We will begin making our preparations to leave this place at once, though it will be a long time before we are ready to go. Among other things, we will have to decide on a destination for our journey."

Yasha shook herself then, and forced her mind to her duty and main reason for coming. "Don't forget: I need your help against the Valsharess."

"I will not abandon you. You are a true friend of the golems. We will be at your side when you go to face your enemy. It is the least we can do for you. Now, is there anything else you need?"

Yasha found she could no longer meet his glowing, lidless gaze when he named her a friend of the golems. She bowed with her eyes on the ground, and tried to put all of her gratitude for their upcoming help in her voice when she responded. "Thank you, no. We should be going."

* * *

Later, she crossed her arms and stared out over the dark and deadly river as they awaited the return of the Boatman. The river would carry their request to return, or so the strange ferryman had said, so they had little to do but wait. Valen sat, quietly and with apparent patience, on a pile of stones several steps behind her. Only the occasional scrape as he shifted for comfort reminded her he was there. Deekin was crouched over another pile of stones farther from the water, his precious parchments scattered over several rocks in some pattern only he understood.

Yasha nibbled on her lip as she stared into the darkness, reviewing the confrontation with The Maker and Aghaaz over and over, wondering what words or actions could have possibly changed the outcomes. All she could think of were wishes that things had turned out differently. She wished The Maker's nature had been different. She wished Aghaaz had put less importance on his own power. She wished she had found a way to lay claim to the Power Source without the slaughter of Aghaaz and his followers.

Yasha grimaced. They were pointless wishes, and she had no genie in a bottle. Starting guiltily, she shook her head and grinned ruefully as she looked down at her backpack. Well, she had none that would grant her any wishes anyway.

"And so the hero," Deekin intoned from behind her, "silent and moody, stared out over the river."

Yasha turned to the kobold. "What? I'm not being moody."

Deekin gave her a dubious look. "You prefer angsty, maybe?"

"I am certainly not being angsty," she replied, planting her hands on her hips. "Pensive, maybe."

"Pensive, boss? What's the difference?"

"You suggest I'm pouting, or feeling sorry for myself. I'm not." She paused, her conscience twitching. "Well, not that much."

Both Deekin and Valen regarded her silently for a long moment. She raised her hands at them, "I'm just...just thinking. Considering actions taken. Learning from events." She crossed her arms defiantly one more as neither replied. "That's not the same as being moody."

"Are you certain? You do seem somewhat...defensive about it," Valen suggested, a smirk on his face.

Yasha made a face at him. "Defensive? I'm hurt that you would suggest such a thing. I'm just making sure Deekin has his facts straight before he records it for posterity." She licked her teeth and looked back out over the river. "Defensive. I mean really."

"So, boss, you is not being moody or angsty?" Deekin asked from behind her.

"Right."

"You is being pensive instead?"

Yasha looked back at him guardedly, but his return look was innocent and curious. "Exactly," she replied after a moment.

"Whatever you say Boss," he confirmed cheerfully. She scowled at him as he turned back to his parchment, and then stuck her tongue out at Valen when he dared chuckle. "Either way Deekin," she said in a determinedly un-moody tone of voice, "you should start gathering up your papers." She pointed out over the waters at the boat that was just starting to come into her view. "Cavallas is here."

* * *

As before, the news of their arrival preceded them when they arrived at the Seer's encampment, and the Seer was prepared to see them as soon as they entered the temple. Everyone seemed quite surprised but happy to hear about their new golem allies, and Yasha was in turn surprised that the Seer had ordered a bath be drawn up for the paladin before she could even request it. So, in a shorter time than Yasha would have thought possible, she found herself done with her report, suitably praised, and sent to soak in the bathtub.

All in all, she wasn't going to complain.

After the conversation on the beach, she had resolved once more to try to dwell on more positive thoughts. As the Seer had pointed out, they now had a new and unlooked for allies. And those golems that survived now had a freedom and empowerment that they had only dreamed of for centuries. There were too many obstacles to face to spend time brooding about what had already happened.

She had too be honest with herself. She had been brooding. Or at least her behavior bordered on it. A little. Instead of continuing to do that, she decided to finish her planning for eliminating the allies of the Valsharess, for that was what remained for her to do. First the undead menace, she was sure. That she felt most prepared to face. The beholders or the mind flayers would come later.

Of course, there was still the problem with Valen to deal with. He seemed less hostile, to be sure, but she would be a fool to say that there wasn't still tension between them. Additionally, just a few minutes ago, he was clearly unhappy when Yasha had requested that both he and Nathyrra come with her against the allies of the Valsharess. The Seer had made clear that Nathyrra had scouted the caves around that area, so her expertise would be valuable. It just hadn't occurred to Yasha that Valen would protest going as well.

Yasha wanted him to come. She thought he was very good in a fight, and offered insightful advice. And she just enjoyed his company, by and large, and liked the idea of him coming along. There wasn't anything wrong with that, she assured herself as she gazed down at her water-wrinkled fingers. Surely he didn't hold their angry exchanges against her so much that he would refuse to fight alongside her any longer.

The Seer had over-ridden whatever doubts he'd had and insisted he go, since Yasha had requested. Technically, the decision was made. However, Yasha didn't want him to come against his will. That would cause all kinds of problems, and she needed willing allies if they were to succeed. She thought she should go to him and apologize for losing her temper, to see if that might help smooth things over.

A part of her rankled at that thought, and she felt a petulant resistance to admitting her failure first. "But he started it," she whispered, in a mocking, childish voice. Her self-mockery didn't ease the defiance in her heart against the thought, however. After all, it wasn't fair or just that she should have to go first after what he said, was it? Maybe it wasn't really petulant of her not to humble herself like that. She stood up for others. Couldn't she stand up for herself as well without feeling guilty?

Or was that just her pride talking? Frowning at the ceiling, she leaned back into the hot water.

"Torm, I'd really appreciate it if you gave me some sign about what I should do."

She nearly jumped out of the tub when her half-hearted prayer was immediately followed by a knock at her door. "Yes?"

"It is Valen. Might we speak?"

_Well, Yasha, there's your sign._

"Of course," she called before she could change her mind. "Just give me a moment."

She pulled herself out of the tub quickly, splashing a significant amount of water out in her haste to towel off and pull on her robe. No doubt Valen heard all of the splashing and commotion, for his voice was tinged with awkward embarrassment when he added through the door, "I...did not realize you were still bathing. I can come back later."

"No!" Yasha called firmly. She winced at herself and shook her head as she finished tying the sash of the robe and padded barefoot over to the door. "No, now is fine."

She yanked open the door before he could decide to wander away regardless of her words. He looked at her in surprise, his eyes traveling from her bare feet to her dripping hair, and his cheeks flushed with the embarrassment she had heard in his voice.

"Perhaps it is best if I give you time to dress," he said uncomfortably after a moment.

"No. Don't be silly. I'm fine. Please, come in," she said quickly, tripping over her words in her haste to get them out. She was determined to take this as a sign to apologize, but she also knew if she waited, she would likely lose the conviction to do so. There was no time like the present, after all. When he still hesitated at the doorway, she stepped backwards, opened the door wider and waved him in.

Reluctantly, he followed her gesture and stepped inside. Yasha continued talking, though she tried to calm herself enough to not sound like a babbling idiot.

"I've been lounging around in the bath for too long anyway. Besides, I was just about to go seek you out, and this saves me the trouble."

He paused, looking at her curiously. "You were going to seek me out? Why?"

Yasha ran her fingers through her tangled hair and shrugged. The present was a rather flexible thing. "You came here to say something. You go first."

Leaning against the cold stone wall, she watched him pace in her small room thoughtfully, his tail twitching. Sighing, he finally stopped and looked askance at her with a bit of reluctance. "I have been wrong about something. I owe you an apology."

Yasha, absorbed in her own intent, was taken off-guard by his words. "An apology? For what?"

He pondered for a moment, obviously going over what he wanted to say in his head. "Ever since the Seer foretold your coming, I have resented you. A little. I think... I think it was more because I wanted to be the one who kept the Seer safe."

Yasha crossed her arms and looked down, frowning. Valen continued, apparently without noticing her reaction.

"I had been working so long to save the rebels I did not want someone bursting in and taking all the credit. So I convinced myself you could not be trusted, that perhaps the Seer's vision was wrong. And yet you have proven yourself time and again. I... am very sorry."

Flabbergasted, Yasha blinked up at him, the words she had been preparing to say forgotten. Then the relief hit her like a giddy wave, and mischief bubbled to the surface. "And? That's it?"

He seemed slightly taken aback. "What do you mean?"

Yasha tried to smother her grin, and looked archly back at him. "Is _that_ how you apologize to a woman?"

A hint of a smirk played along his mouth until finally he bowed to her. "Of course you are correct, my lady. I humbly beg for the chance to rescind my words. Could you ever see your way to forgiving me?"

Embarrassed at his dramatic gesture, she smiled and shook her head at herself. "Thank you. Yes."

"I am glad," he smiled.

"So I'm not so bad for a paladin?"

Valen considered, his eyes blue flashing with amusement. "Well, you can be somewhat aggravating at times," he admitted wryly.

Yasha laughed. "I get told that often, I'm afraid. I'll try very hard not to aggravate you too much." Yasha considered, pursing her lips. Then she pushed herself off of the wall. "Which leads me to the reason I was seeking you out."

"Oh?" he asked, his smile fading. "What did you wish to discuss?"

"Don't look so concerned. I was actually planning on apologizing to you for losing my temper. I would add a curtsy," she added, waving at her robe and making a wry face, "but I'm not dressed for it."

His smile returned. "That would not be necessary in any case."

"But you'll accept my apology?"

"Of course."

"Good. And you are still willing to accompany me on this quest?" At his puzzled look, she added, "I saw your hesitation when I brought it up during our meeting with the Seer."

He raised an eyebrow. "Ah. That was not based on any hesitation about traveling with you. I was...just concerned for the Seer's safety, and at putting so much of our resources in one pursuit."

Yasha grunted, frowning down at her feet again. "I suppose that does make sense."

"I will, of course, join you if you wish. It has been good to fight at your side so far on this journey. I begin to believe that perhaps we really will win against the Valsharess."

Valen's voice was full of sincerity, which did an amazing job of soothing the ruffled feelings Yasha had. She even felt her face begin to flush at the praise before he continued, his tone becoming more concerned.

"I feel I must warn you, however... she may not even be our true opponent. If she holds an archdevil captive, as her servants have claimed, he may indeed be far more powerful than she."

Yasha chewed on this idea for a moment. "What do you know about him?"

"Little. My old master, however, was a dread Balor known as Grimash't, one of the most powerful of all tanar'ri. Yet an archdevil such as the one the Valsharess holds would laugh at his abilities. I say this because he may be the primary reason that the Valsharess possesses the power she does. If we could find out how she controls him, and perhaps break that control... then we might have a chance."

They were both silent for a time, and Yasha rubbed her chin as she absorbed the impact of his words. "Or we might let a worse evil loose," she added thoughtfully.

"But perhaps it is pointless to speak of this now until we learn more," he finally said. "We should both get our rest, so we might get an early start tomorrow."

"Yes," she agreed, squaring her shoulders. She laid her hand on his forearm as he turned to leave. "Thank you, Valen, and good night."

Startled, he froze and looked down at her hand. Then blinked up at her again with a cautious smile. "Good night, my lady."

She sagged with relief as she closed the door. She felt a tad guilty. His apology had spared her the choice between her pride and what she knew was right. But over-all, she was glad to get the simmering anger out of her system. It was with great relief that she settled in to sleep, and prepare herself for the challenges ahead. She, also, suddenly felt hope that they would prevail.


	16. Chapter 16 Revised

Yasha met Deekin before the great doors of the temple bright and early the next morning. At least, she imagined it would have been bright if she could have seen the sun. For that matter, she wasn't even sure if it was early, as she had lost track of the day and night cycles some time ago.

"Good morning, Deekin," she said, determined to maintain the fiction that it was bright and early, regardless.

His smile was brief and distracted. "Morning, boss."

An uncharacteristic silence descended on the kobold then, and he fidgeted with various straps and buckles on his equipment without saying another word for some time. Yasha alternated between looking for Valen and Nathyrra, and watching Deekin with growing concern. She was relieved when he finally sidled over and spoke.

"Ummm, boss?"

"Yes Deekin?"

"Does you remember old master at all?"

Yasha blinked, taken off guard. Of all the topics she thought he might bring up, speaking of the white dragon that Deekin had served was the last one she would have thought of.

"Of course I remember Tymofarrar," she replied, once she had gathered her wits once more. "Last I heard he was still as blasé as ever," she added in a lower tone.

Yasha frowned at the memory. Part of her felt guilty for her dealings with Tymofarrar; as if she had betrayed the world by not challenging the wyrm to combat rather than bargaining with him. He did arrange the raid on Hilltop and the attempted murder of her mentor, after all.

"Deekin remembers when you tells Deekin that he be free," the kobold said thoughtfully. "He almost not believe it that old master lets him go. Deekin was very happy."

Yasha smiled, and remembered anew part of the reason she was so satisfied with her deal with the dragon. Things turned out well, after all, and the dragon certainly didn't seem very eager to fly off and raid the surrounding villages anytime soon, at least.

"Deekin just wonders," he continued carefully. "When you talks to old master, did he talks about Deekin at all?"

Yasha looked back down at the kobold, her smile fading, wondering fort he first time in a long while if he actually missed staying with Tymofarrar. While she considered him, Deekin studied his hands for a while before looking up at her hopefully.

"He talked about you with affection," she finally replied. Then her brows furrowed as she winced at the memory. "Sort of."

"Oh. Sometimes Deekin misses old master, too, but that not what Deekin talks about. Old master tell Deekin once that Deekin gots lots of dragon blood. Deekin not be sure about that. Deekin not be bigger or stronger," he added, waving at himself. "He not breathes fire or anything."

An odd mixture of relief and renewed concerned swirled in Yasha as the kobold spoke. He was not considering return to the dragon, then. However, talk of dragon blood heritage was no small matter, either. Once he finished, she knelt down before him so that they could be eye to eye. She gave him a serious, appraising look before replying. "Maybe the potential is there. You never know."

"Maybe. Deekin not really thinks so, but sometimes he wonders. So Deekin wonder if old master not say anything abouts Deekin? Nothing likes that?

Yasha closed her eyes, focusing as best she could on all the conversations she had with the dragon, and reviewed them for any hint or aside referring to what Deekin just said. Finally she sighed and opened her eyes, shaking her head. "I'm sorry Deekin. He never did."

Deekin looked crestfallen. "Oh. Deekin hopes that...well, Deekin just gots to makes the best of it."

Yasha bit her lip for a moment, and then put her hand on his shoulder. "You do seem different from when I first met you. Perhaps the dragon blood is starting to show itself?"

He was silent for a while. "Sometimes," he began with a quiet voice, "sometimes when Deekin fights he feels heart beating really fast and he feel," he paused, his clawed hand over his chest. "He feel strong." He looked back up at her, both earnest and embarrassed. "Does that seem silly to you, boss?"

"Not really." She paused, concerned but unsure of how to address her worries directly without alarming her friend. "Where do you think it could lead?" she asked tentatively.

"Well," he began, shuffling his feet. "Deekin thinking maybe he tries to, ummm, focus on the dragon blood...on the strong feeling. Deekin thinking he learns to control it. Old master never tells Deekin about this but...maybe it be good thing?"

Yasha released his shoulder, and rubbed her chin. Her experiences with dragons in general had not proved very positive. What sort of dragon blood did he have? If he pursued this heritage, would his personality change? Would he still be Deekin?

Seeing her troubled look, Deekin withdrew a bit. "It be up to you, boss," he assured her quickly. "Deekin do what you tells him to. If you wants Deekin to just be faithful bard, instead, Deekin do that and be happy."

Yasha sucked in a shamed breath at his reaction. "I can't tell you what to do in this matter, Deekin. You must be the one who decides." She paused, and then put both hands on his shoulders once more. "I will support you either way you decide, in whatever manner I can."

Deekin grinned bashfully. "Then...then Deekin work on focusing on dragon blood for now. Deekin hopes that okay. You tells him if not, boss."

Yasha patted his arm. "Very well," she said, grinning. "You just let me know if you feel a sudden desire to start a hoard or roast me for dinner or anything like that."

Deekin nodded, a small smile on his face. "Sure thing, boss."

The sound of approaching footsteps prompted Yasha to rise again. Valen, distinctive in his green armor, threaded his way through the columns of the temple's main hall. He halted when he reached them, and glanced between them briefly before speaking.

"Yasha. Deekin. Nathyrra. Good morning. Are we ready to leave, then?"

Yasha bit back a rather rude exclamation, and glanced around her quickly. Sure enough, Nathyrra stood little more than three yards away, and gave her an amused expression when their eyes met.

"I am prepared," the dark elf said smoothly, a condescending smirk on her face, "if Yasha is."

Yasha sighed. She glanced briefly down at Deekin, who was already shrugging his small pack onto his back.

"Well, then. I suppose we should get started," the paladin replied with resignation. She motioned for the drow to lead the way. They were on the verge of leaving the small outpost behind and entering the maze of caves that was the true Underdark when Yasha decided she should put away her thoughts on how she could have avoided bringing Nathyrra at all, and instead make the best of it.

"Can you give me any more information on this village we're heading for - this Drearing's Deep that may be the source of the undead allies of the Valsharess?" she asked.

Nathyrra glanced back at her, red eyes flashing disturbingly in the dim light. "Not much more than I have already told you. It is a small village made up of escaped slaves, we believe, though I have avoided direct contact. There appears to be a large building in the center, though we do not know its function."

Yasha frowned. "What led you to believe, then, that this is the source of the undead?"

Nathyrra's raised her eyebrows. "The groups of drow leading lines of large, skeletal creatures away from the area."

"Ah. Well, I suppose that is a good lead," Yasha replied.

Given that information, Yasha could think of nothing else to ask. They entered the Underdark quietly, which was probably for the best. When the going got rough and Nathyrra pulled a bit ahead to scout, the paladin made no attempt to close the distance again.

---

Yasha huffed with exhaustion as she curled up into her bedroll. Nathyrra had led them into the true heart of the Underdark, and Yasha found the constant tense peering into the shadows almost as exhausting as battling the nasty creatures that frequently attacked from the enveloping darkness. They had finally found a nook that Nathyrra had declared relatively safe, and set up a cold and fireless camp to grab what rest they could before continuing on their way to the slave village, Drearings Deep. The bedroll gave little cushioning between her bones and the hard stone below her, but Yasha couldn't imagine anything that could keep her tired eyes open for another minute.

"Nathyrra, I wonder if I might ask you a... personal question," Valen said from somewhere to her left.

Yasha's eyes popped back open. Except maybe for that.

Nathyrra regarded Valen with a bemused grin. "What's this? All these months I have been with the Seer and you have never once deigned to speak to me. Why now?"

"I am no longer in command of the drow forces, nor are we fleeing for our lives." He gestured about at the area. "And we are, more or less, alone."

Yasha turned over to look at him, her mouth open in mock protest, and tried to decide if she should truly feel slighted or not. Nathyrra gave her an amused glance before replying to him.

"Well, so long as Yasha doesn't mind, go ahead and ask whatever you'd like."

Valen looked briefly at Yasha and shrugged. "I... doubt she will." Yasha rolled her eyes and shook her head at him as he stayed focused on Nathyrra and continued. "I'd like to know, however... what was it about the Seer that convinced you to leave the drow and join her?"

Nathyrra seemed mildly taken aback. "That's not an insignificant question. How about you tell me, first."

"Why I went with her?" He looked away into the distance, obviously thinking back. "I suppose... I knew I needed help. And I knew that she would help me."

"And that she would do it for no other reason than because I needed it," Nathyrra finished, her tone solemn.

Valen's eyes locked with Nathyrra's for a long moment and then he looked away, embarrassed. "I am sorry. My suspicions are foolish."

Yasha closed her eyes and covered them with her left arm, trying not to feel smug. It was, however, a definite relief to have Valen's suspicions directed elsewhere for a change.

"No, they're not," she heard Nathyrra reply. "You've been protective of the Seer ever since I arrived. And you should be. I want you to be. I'm glad she has you at her side."

"Only I'm not at her side now, am I?" he replied.

Yasha gritted her teeth at the tension in the silence that followed. It was a long time before she could force herself to release the death grip her right hand suddenly had on the rough fabric of her bedroll. It was an even longer time before she could calm herself enough to forget the unpleasant feeling that twisted her stomach and kept her mind dancing with unworthy thoughts. She was shamed that it was a very long time indeed.


	17. Chapter 17 Revised

Yasha was actually relieved the first time they caught a glimpse of their destination. Even a few torches in front of a handful of huts were an unbelievably welcome sight after the unrelenting dark of the rest of the caves. Despite Nathyrra's initial resistance to the idea, Yasha led them directly into the small village. She had, with sufficient success, argued that Nathurra had gained all of the information there was to gain by spying on the place from the shadows.

Besides, the direct approach suited Yasha better anyway.

Yasha had half expected armed resistance to their entrance. By all accounts, this was an ally of their enemy, and a source of substantial power. However, there were not even guards at the gate, which struck her as very odd indeed considering her first hand experience at how dangerous the Underdark truly was. The apparently undefended village was perplexing. She walked slowly to the center of where the huts were huddled, and as her eyes adjusted to the relative light she saw how gloomy the place was. It wasn't just the darkness, though shadows did cling, thick as cobwebs, to every corner. No, the gloom was a heaviness of spirit that showed in the functional but tired looking buildings, the drab wares in the only market booth, and the litter that cluttered the streets. Even the torches, now that she was in their midst, didn't seem to have the will to light the place like she thought they should have, but instead sputtering half-heartedly.

Mostly, the gloom was present in the way the people slunk away from open spaces and furtively avoided making eye contact with her as she looked around. Even as she watched, they scattered like leaves, hiding in their houses or taking cover in the shadowed nooks. Over all of this the only truly permanent structure, a dark and foreboding stone edifice, towered imposingly.

"Well," she said, frowning, "I suppose it is a little too much to expect a cheery village in the Underdark."

Beside her, Nathyrra narrowed her eyes as she scanned the village. "Something isn't right."

Yasha wrinkled her nose. "I'd be hard pressed to name something that was right in this village. We'll have to investigate to find out what's really behind this place, I imagine."

"Of course," the drow replied, nodding. "Just be prepared for..." Nathyrra paused, a pained look on her face. Then she shrugged. "Well, I don't know what. Just try to be prepared."

Yasha bobbed her head in agreement, and frowned as an odd thought occurred to her. Shouldn't she be getting this advice from another source? She looked around curiously, and caught sight of Valen and Deekin several yards back. Deekin was just turning to trot in their direction while Valen looked on, a look of perplexed annoyance on his face. Finally, the tiefling shook his head, sighed, and followed the kobold to where the two women waited.

Yasha looked from the tiefling to the kobold and back again. "Is there something wrong?"

Deekin looked up at her happily. "Nope."

Yasha raised her eyebrows and looked to Valen. She could have sworn she saw a slight flush in his cheeks, even in the dim light. "The kobold just wondered... Well he asked a rather blunt question about my heritage," he finished.

Yasha turned to Deekin, who immediately added. "Did you know he was part demon, boss?"

"Yes, I did," Yasha replied carefully.

"Boss!" he exclaimed, a pained tone in his voice. "Why didn't you tell little Deekin? It's important to Deekin's book."

"I..." Yasha considered for a moment. Turning she started walking slowly around the village square once more, Deekin at her side and the others right after. "Well, to be honest Deekin, you never asked. Besides, I was sure that you must have over-heard some conversation between us where it was mentioned."

Beside her, Deekin hummed in the back of his throat as he considered her reply. As she waited for him to respond, she let her gaze wander over the village huts, frowning as some curtains jerked closed before she could catch a glimpse at who spied on them. The villagers were certainly acting very suspicious.

"Deekin not think so, boss."

Yasha blinked, and forced her mind back to the conversation with the kobold. "Are you certain?"

"Deekin's pretty sure."

Yasha bit her lip. She could probably think of more than one occasion where it had come up quite loudly in conversations with Valen, but decided to drop the issue. "What did you think, then, if you didn't know he had demonic blood?"

"Don't ask," Valen grunted. He shot her an icy glance, and his hand brushed one horn self-consciously before he seemed to notice it and pulled down in irritation.

Yasha shook her head in warning at Deekin when he seemed about to add something else. Whatever they had talked about had irritated Valen, and she didn't particularly want an irritated tiefling at her back. She was still deciding if there was anything she could say without making things worse when the little girl caught her eye.

The girl sat with her arms wrapped around her knees under a ragged, cloth awning that at one time marked some merchant's table. She was thin and bedraggled. Her hair lay in dirty strings down her back, and grime streaked her face. Despite all this, it was the girl's eyes that caught Yasha's attention. The little girl stared straight-ahead from where she sat, apparently focused on nothing in particular. She looked neither sad nor frightened. In fact, there was really no emotion in her face at all, even as Yasha approached.

The paladin stood for a long time, staring down at the little girl and expecting some sort of reaction. Her face didn't change, however, nor did she attempt to scuttle away, even when Yasha knelt down before her. Another glance left and right confirmed that no adults stood nearby or objected to Yasha approaching the girl.

"Hello?" Yasha said, tentatively. There was no response. "Hello sweetie," she tried again, louder, "What's your name?"

That got a response, though not nearly the one Yasha expected. The girl's eyes suddenly focused, terrified, on Yasha's face. Then the girl opened her mouth and started to make a low, weedy cry. It was a horrible, pitiful sound, and it was all the more disturbing for how hushed it was.

Yasha rocked back on her heels at the response, dismayed. "No," she said to the little girl. "Wait. Stop." She moved to lay a hand on the girl's shoulder, thinking to comfort her, but the little girl cringed and tried to push the paladin's hand away. That, of course, resulted in the girl smacking her bare hand into Yasha's armored arm, which hurt Yasha not at all, but scrapd the girl's hand, which in turn resulted in more and more pained whining from the child. The then wail began to increase in volume as the girl's fear grew.

A glance back at her companions gained Yasha nothing besides blank or startled looks. Yasha pulled her gauntlet off and ran her fingers through her hair. She could nearly feel the accusing stares of hidden eyes from all over the village. The urge to hold the child to comfort her was strong, but Yasha knew that would not give her solace. Feeling helpless, Yasha tried talking to her onc eagain. "Child, hush. What's wrong?"

"Please," came quiet voice from her left.

Yasha looked up to see a woman sidling towards them hesitantly, her eyes darting from the girl to Yasha and her companions and back. The woman visibly gulped, and her hands were clutched nervously before her, but her voice was louder when she continued. "Please," the woman repeated, "Leave her be. She's already lost her parents. Surely they won't be paying much for such a small child."

Yasha stared at the woman, completely puzzled. She was dressed in worn clothing, though it was carefully patched and clean. The paladin doubted the woman could be young enough even be an elder sister, though her haggard appearance might well make her look older than she was. At least the little girl had quieted at the woman's approach. In fact, the silence was getting rather awkward and the woman looked like she had half a mind to bolt.

"Who would pay?" Yasha finally asked.

It was the woman's turn to be puzzled, then. She looked again at Yasha, her eyes narrowing as she licked her lips. "Be you not slave catchers searching for runaways?"

Behind her, she heard Valen growl briefly. "We most certainly are not."

Yasha kept her eyes on the woman, oddly afraid that the villager would disappear if she looked away even for a moment. Still, she could well imagine Valen crossing his arms and lashing his tail at the accusation of being a slave hunter. He certainly looked imposing, for the villager went pale. The doubt on her face was plain, but she didn't seem to want to argue the point with Valen. Yasha didn't blame her one bit.

She was actually fairly impressed when the woman continued. "Then...then why...? Be you escaped slaves?"

Valen laughed, grimly but not without humor in his voice. "Technically, yes. I suppose both Yasha and I are."

The woman still looked at them dubiously, but her face and stance softened. She looked curiously at Yasha and the girl who still sat before her.

"I didn't mean to frighten her," Yasha assured the woman, answering the unspoken question in her eyes. Then the paladin looked back at the little girl, who returned the gaze, wide-eyed. "I just asked her name."

"Ah, no wonder." the woman replied. Yasha looked back up at the woman as she cautiously approached. "You should know, since you be new. To give your name is a bad omen. If your name be known to the priests," she hesitated, biting her lip. Her eyes flickered to some spot behind Yasha. Turning, she followed the woman's look, and was unsurprised to find the source of the villager's fear was the huge stone building. Yasha turned back and considered the both the woman and the child for a moment.

"You're scared of the priests, aren't you?" Yasha finally asked, meeting the woman's eyes.

The woman held very still at the question, her eyes flicking around to the shadows around her as if she feared she had walked into some trap. "The priests keep to themselves, except for the picking or the freeing of more slaves... Even the menfolk are scared of them."

Yasha stayed kneeling, somehow certain that even the act of standing might frighten the woman away at this point. Still, she sensed in the woman's tone an important bit of information. "The picking? What do you mean?"

"The Ceremony..." The woman paused, biting her lip. "It's to protect us! One be picked so the rest can be safe. It's being held more and more often now." She looked at them warily, as if mentioning the frequency was a mistake. Indeed, the defensiveness was plain in her voice as she continued. "There be trouble in the world, see? Drow, undead, illithids... The Ceremony's what keeps us safe."

Yasha frowned. She knew better than to try to find out if the woman really felt such confidence in the sacrifices. No doubt expressing any doubts about The Ceremony would be the best way to get yourself 'picked'. She also had little doubts now of the source of the undead in the village. "How does a Ceremony get called?" she asked grimly.

The woman shifted nervously, pulling the shawl about her shoulders tightly around her. "The priests ring the gong by the temple and everyone from the village gathers for the picking. Sometimes one of us rings the gong, too, if we think there's a need for it."

Yasha gritted her teeth at the last sentence. She wondered how many times the villagers had turned on each other. How many times had those that expressed any doubts been denounced to the priests and taken away? That, however, was another question she dared not ask.

"But if the gong's rung," the woman continued, her voice trembling, "the picking has to happen. The gods have heard the ringing and won't leave without their price. Once a little boy rang it three times and would've rang it more if he hadn't been the one picked."

Yasha looked down at the waif before her once more. Unshed tears shimmered in the girl's eyes. "This girl has lost her parents to The Ceremony?" she guessed.

The woman was silent for several heartbeats. "Yes."

The little girl blinked, and her tears finally escaped her eyes to track slowly down her cheeks. Yasha felt her throat tighten at the empty hopelessness in the girl's eyes. She would be victim to the creatures of the Underdark, or sacrifice to the dark priests that supposedly protected them. Unbidden, she saw that expression on her little niece, who she had last seen riding her pony the to the farm's gates to wave goodbye to her Aunt Yasha. She nearly choked at the thought, and her own vision blurred for a moment. Yasha reached out to cup the girl's cheek with her gloveless hand.

"My name is Yashana Elizabeth Shepherd," she said quietly. She heard the woman gasp, and the little girl's eyes widened, but Yasha paused only briefly before continuing. "And the priests won't take anything more from you, little one. I swear it."

Yasha stood, nodding at the woman. "Thank you for the information." The villager, however was too shocked to say anything, and merely nodded once, open-mouthed. Yasha spun to face the temple. The purpose of the dark edifice was now clear, and the sight of it sparked righteous outrage. Yasha welcomed it. It banished the paralyzing grief and fear she had felt at the vision of her niece in the empty eyes of the little girl.

She started towards it, pulling on her gauntlet once more. "'The ceremony keeps us safe'," she growled to no one in particular. "Right. Just like a butcher keeps his cattle safe from thieves."

She bounded up the stairs to the temple, vaguely aware of her companions coming up behind her. She passed by the dais with the huge gong with barely a glance. Ignoring the guards that flanked the massive metal doors, she marched up and yanked on the handles. Unsurprisingly, they were magically sealed, and didn't even give an inch.

"No one enters the temples but the priests," the guard on her left growled. He eyed her armor and her sword with flinty eyes.

"I wish to speak with them," Yasha demanded.

"They come out only when they wish," he sneered in response.

"Is that so?" Yasha narrowed her eyes at the guard. She flashed him a feral grin, and pulled Duty from her scabbard. The guard was just reaching for his own weapon when she turned and backtracked down the stairs. She exchanged a glance with Valen as she passed him on the stairs. He seemed to be bracing himself as he turned and followed her back down the stairs, and she knew he guessed her intentions. She stalked up to the gong once more, eyeing its runes. Its dark call to the gods for blood sacrifice only heightened her anger. The gong rang a metallic protest when she brought Duty down on it. It swung widely on its chains from her blow as the sound reverberated off of the walls of the cavern.

"What are you doing?" Nathyrra asked, and edge of exasperation in her voice.

Yasha motioned towards the temple with the point of her sword. "Opening the doors."

"Did it occur to you that there might be a less obvious way of getting in?" the drow asked crisply.

Yasha considered for a moment. "Not really."

"Do you have a plan?" Valen asked quietly.

Yasha looked about her, where the villagers had started to gather from the shadows, eyeing her with looks that ranged from wariness to fearful hostility. The anger began to clear from her mind, and she realized that forcing a confrontation on the village steps would endanger the entirety of the population. She sheathed Duty and planted her hands on her hips. Pursing her lips, she looked back up to the temple. "Get in. Find out how and why they're making so many undead. Stop them."

Well, it certainly sounded straight-forward enough. She suspected it might get a bit complicated fairly quickly.

Deekin grinned, "Sounds exciting boss."

Valen smirked at her then turned his eyes to the temple.

"How did you survive this long?" the Nathyrra asked, shaking her head in dismay.

"Divine intervention?" Yasha suggested. "Don't worry. I'll be careful in there."

"Good," Valen said. His expression serious once more as he turne too look at her. "You'll not be facing this alone, however. I will be fighting at your side."

Nathyrra sighed, laying her hands on her swords. "I, as well."

"Me too, boss!" Deekin added enthusiastically.

Yasha gave them all a grateful smile. Then the cavern echoed with another metallic sound. This time, it was the heavy temple doors unlatching and ponderously beginning to swing open. Yasha took a deep breath, and savored the thrill of fear and anticipation as she caught her first glimpsed of the robed priests.

"Here we go then."


	18. Chapter 17 and a Half

The hair on the back of Yasha's neck rose, and she fought the brief urge to scent the air like a hound. The evil aura around the dark robed priests was nearly palpable, but she also felt another, unpleasantly familiar essence from them that nearly made her forget her ruse: the iciness of dark necromancy.

By the time she felt sure of the feeling, however, they were ringed around the dais where she and her companions stood. Worse, the villagers had gathered at the very edge as well, the most daring standing within a few feet of the priests. Any action on her part would no doubt get some of the innocents of the village caught in the aftermath. Her fingers brushed against Duty's sheath incessantly, but she held her peace.

As she turned to see where all of the priests were moving, she took another look at her companions. Valen stood, still and tense, fixing first one priest then another with an icy blue stare. Even his tail had stopped its usual motion, and tucked tensely close to his legs. Nathyrra was also tense as the priests encircled them. It obviously rubbed the wrong way to let their foes get in such a superior tactical position. Poised on the balls of her feet, her red eyes flicked from one foe to the next, and she spared Yasha only a brief, meaningful glance. Yasha shook her head briefly, which evoked a small frown but no comment from the drow. Deekin watched them nervously, edging around slightly as the priests moved to make sure one of his more melee oriented companions would be between him and the closest priest. He looked both grim and determined, however, and his scaly face looked most alien at these times, when he prepared for battle.

When the priests stood still and turned toward the dais as one, Yasha turned back towards the temple where a cowled figure, obviously the leader, stepped forward off of the stairs and addressed them all.

"The gong has sounded," he intoned, raising his hands dramatically. "A Ceremony has been called for. Vix'thra turns his ancient gaze upon us. Mighty is the will of Vix'thra and great is his hunger." He paused, and Yasha could nearly feel the shudders of the villagers around the dais. All remained deathly silent. It might have been true reverence, if not for the stench of raw fear in the air. "Vix'thra, Sage Protector, our Safeguard against all peril... To thee we offer one of our own! Are there any here who wish to serve the will of Vix'thra?"

He pulled his cowl back, ignoring the villagers all around in favor of the four that stood before the gong. To Yasha's surprise, he revealed neither a desiccated, dried face nor even bare bones. His face was full and apparently human, though very pale indeed. She met his gaze across the few yards that separated them. It wasn't the cold, lifeless eyes of a lich. It was stern and powerful. It was compelling. Doubt crept into her, displacing the anger and determination for a few confused moments. Had she misjudged the priests? Were they actually only doing what was necessary to ensure the safety of the villagers? Perhaps she should cooperate, after all. Perhaps that sacrifice was the best and only way she could truly help these poor villagers.

The head priests sneered; a feral look that bared his fangs. Yasha shuddered. It was if some unseen claw at her throat was suddenly shaken off. A brief shock of fearful revulsion went through her. They were vampires. She gripped Duty's hilt briefly to reassure herself. Tilting her chin back, she steeled herself as she stepped forward. "I would," she said carefully, "be most disappointed if you tried to take anyone but myself in this Ceremony."

Behind her, she heard Nathyrra hiss briefly with disapproval. Valen also made a low, nearly growling sound before he spoke. "Be careful," he warned. Yasha nodded once, not taking her eyes off of the vampire before her.

The priest frowned at her briefly, and she felt the pressure in his gaze increase. Self-doubt and an urge to submit willingly to the sacrifice crept into her soul once more, but now she knew their source and with a short prayer to Torm for aid, she summoned her will to meet his. A foreign and repugnant picture formed in her mind of her meekly submitting to the priests. Gritting her teeth, she summoned the words of the litany of virtues, reciting in her mind the stanzas of courage, hope, and duty. She might indeed die by this creature's hands, but she would never go willingly to the slaughter. She had just started on the fourth verse when, abruptly, the silent battle of wills ended, and a slow, mocking smile spread across his face.

"Vix'thra approves of his servant," he declared, motioning to the cowled figures at either side. "Priests!"

"Boss!" Deekin hissed. "Is you going to let them take you inside?"

She nodded, and spoke quietly and quickly as the priests approached. "Yes, but I'd appreciate it if you three don't let me stay there by myself for too long. Don't let the doors close behind me."

"When will we know to come?" Nathyrra asked, her voice heavy with alarm and disapproval

"Don't worry," Valen growled, "Knowing Yasha, I doubt the sign will be too subtle to notice."

Yasha flashed him a half-grin, and turned towards the priests that moved solemnly towards her. She nodded to them, and without a word they started escorting her towards the dark temple. The villagers remained silent as the procession filed past. Among the grim faces, she saw the woman and child they had just spoken with. The woman looked at her with disbelief and sadness, and the little girl with the same empty hopelessness as before. She spared them a wink, enjoying the older woman's startled expression before turning her eyes somberly before her once again.

She fixed her eyes at the robed figure that climbed the stairs before her. She didn't bother to pretend to be a meek and willing lamb being led to the slaughter. This one already knew differently. Instead, she kept her head up and marched defiantly up the stairs, and straight into the huge doorway. Once they were in the foyer of the great building, the head priest turned again, and sneered again at her defiant posture. Most of the priests filed past and into the shadowed interior, but two deceptively small figures stayed at either side of the paladin.

"Strip this one and bring it to my chambers," the head priest said brusquely to the two figures that flanked her. "Vix'thra grows impatient with us and we must sacrifice a victim to the pit with no delay."

"Yes, Master Sodalis," the one to her right intoned.

Yasha seethed. Strip her indeed. Her hand was already clasping around Duty's hilt when the vampire turned another stare in her direction. A weight like steel bands snapped over her arms and body. He reached out a cold hand and patted her cheek lightly, and despite how much she strained to smack it away, she found she could not.

"You'll cooperate, won't you?"

Yasha struggled to say one of the many rather vile things that popped into her head but found she could not even move her lips. She managed only a small growl at him when he showed his fangs in another taunting smile before walking off and up some nearby stairs. The priest to her right pulled her arm and tried to lead her forward into the temple. To either side, the massive metal doors began to slowly close. She fought desperately, hoping her companions would not wait for a signal, and just managed to keep herself still, though drawing her blade was still beyond her. She furrowed her brow at the priest.

"No."

He turned back at her, and the weak light from the village below showed his face for the first time – another pale, and deceptively human one.

"Come."

The compulsion seemed to be weakening, and she pushed harder against it. "No," she repeated, only slightly louder.

"You will be stripped and prepared for the sacrifice," he repeated slowly, apparently puzzled to see any resistance at all. She felt another, less powerful compulsion try to lay over her mind, but it was nothing compared to the previous one, and she shrugged it off even as the more powerful one waned. She gave him what was no doubt a highly unpleasant smile.

"Stripped? How rude. We've only just met." The other priest now stood back from her, and she could feel his silent gaze upon her as well. The astonishment on his face was somewhat gratifying, though she surely wished she were certain she could follow up on her willful resistance. Still, she saw the doors were half closed, and knew her time was short.

"You WILL feed Master Sodalis, and your bones given to the mighty Vix'thra."

"You seem rather repetitive today. Or are you always like this?" she replied, managing to finally shake his grip off of her arm. "Let me repeat myself as well. No, I won't. Besides, I've become rather attached to my bones."

He snarled and reached out for her again. Yasha was unable to get her arm to her side to draw her sword, but she was able to pull her arm up to backhand him. In his contempt for the young woman, he made no move to avoid her blow. Of course, he didn't expect it to have the power of an ogre's strength behind it either. She had a moment to register the surprised and pained look on his face as he flew back from her before she used her freed arm to pull Duty from her sheath. Cleansing power surged up her arm, and a metallic tone rang through the dark temple as the holy sword came free from her sheath. The last of the compulsion was swept away as Duty's holy fire sprang to life, and the paladin spun, catching the second priest off guard.

She caught sight of her companions bounding up the stairs before the two guards flanking the doors closed on her and blocked her view. Behind her, she heard the other priest recover from her blow and began reciting and invocation. The battle for the dark temple had begun.


	19. Chapter 18

Yasha wrinkled her nose as she opened yet another sarcophagus. Raiding what should be the final resting place of the dead was one of those parts of adventuring that she didn't think she would ever get used to. Of course, the fact that these particular dead weren't resting that well made it an unfortunate necessity. She paused briefly to identify the creature within. It was another of the vampiric cult priests; one of the many that had attacked once she and her companions had found their way into this gruesome inner sanctum. She pulled another splintered, makeshift stake from her belt and, with a short prayer for the person this creature had once been, put a final end to its undead existence. Then she laid the lid down carefully once more.

"Still no sign of the head priest." Frustrated, she put her hand son her hips and looked around at her companions. "This makes no sense. He should have fled to some coffin somewhere after we defeated him upstairs, but we've run out of coffins."

"We will find him," Valen replied grimly, eyeing the dark antechamber.

Nathyrra slid her short swords into their sheaths. "Perhaps, but we should find how they made those legions of bone golems we have been fighting. If we destroy that, then we will cripple their alliance value to the Valsharess," A hint of impatience entered her voice as she continued. "That should be our focus, not finding the head priest of this cult. "

Frowning, the paladin fingered Duty's hilt. Though Nathyrra was technically correct, it chaffed at her to even consider leaving the undead priest in power over the villagers. She felt keenly the foulness that filled the temple, separate from the smell of death and sulfur that hung in the air. Unable to shake a growing feeling of gloom and dread as they had journeyed deeper into the cult's lair, a resolution had grown in her heart that the cult had to be brought low and its power utterly dispersed. Just ending their production of undead was no longer enough. Still, she did not want to look like she had forgotten The Seer's need either.

Yasha was still considering her reply when Enserric spoke up, his voice full of haughty mischief. "Perhaps she merely wants revenge for him ordering her stripped when she was first brought in."

Nathyrra raised her eyebrows, an arch tone of amusement entering her voice. "Is that so?"

"Aye," he replied as Yasha twisted to scowl at the hilt poking over her shoulder. "I was there. I heard it all. It could be he planned to dress her in one of those flimsy white gowns and offer her as a virgin sacrifice."

Yasha felt her jaw drop. Her mortified mind floundered for some snappy reply, but every time she started to respond she realized it would only put her in a worse position, resulting in only strangled noises of protest leaving her throat. Finally, she gave up and snapped her mouth shut. Ignoring both Nathyrra's amused look and Valen's startled one, Yasha shrugged her shoulders, turned on her heel and marched back out into the main room, her face burning. "Enserric," she growled, her head down, "are you familiar with the bag of holding in the bottom of my pack?"

There was a short silence from the blade before he replied. "Yes."

"Keep it in mind, because there is room for you in there, and the idea gets more and more tempting." She forced her head back up, well aware despite her embarrassment that sulking in such a place could cost her life. There really was no need, she was sure, to make eye contact with any of her companions for a while however.

Once they were on the move again, Nathyrra melted into the shadows on their flank, a habit Yasha found unnerving. It was not that she distrusted the drow, really, but the paladin would have preferred to know where she was while they were moving through hostile territory. It also reminded her rather uncomfortably that the drow had, up until recently, been an assassin. Stalking through an undead filled, foul smelling, evil laden temple being mocked by her own weaponry was bad enough without adding that to the mix.

"This stinks," she grumbled to herself.

Beside her, Deekin lifted his muzzle and sniffed the air dramatically. "Deekin notice that, too." He looked around conspiratorially before peering up at her and whispering, "Smells like bad eggs. Worse than the old boss. Think Valen ate something bad?"

Yasha snorted, amused despite herself. She looked quickly, embarrassed, to see if the tiefling had overheard, but when it seemed obvious that he had not, she gave the kobold an embarrassed grin, which was answered by a mischievously toothy one. Shaking her head, Yasha led on into yet another wing of the inner sanctum. This one seemed to be a prison area of some sort, eerily lit by a hellish red glow from the far end. It was hotter here, and the smell of sulfur grew stronger as well. Most of the cells were empty, however, and it was only after they had passed several rows of dank and empty cells did they find any with occupants.

Squinting through the bars through the strange light, Yasha was the first to notice the bodies. She held the furiously blazing Duty up, hoping to use the holy flames to light the cell better. Even then it was hard to make out the details of the two figures, or even to tell if they were alive. Yasha paused only a few moments before bracing herself and raising Duty at the cell door.

"What are you doing?" Nathyrra hissed, stepping from the shadows.

Yasha blinked at her, trying to hide her surprise at the drow's sudden appearance. She gestured at the cell with Duty. "Another one of my rather straight-forward methods of opening doors."

"One I'm very familiar with," Enserric commented acidly.

Nathyrra looked at the paladin, her lips parted in obvious exasperation. "Why?"

"Why? Why what? Oh. Why do I want to get in?" Yasha paused, tilting he head at the drow before using Duty once more to gesture at the still figures within the cell. "I wanted to check on them."

Nathyrra looked between the paladin and the dark cell repeatedly before shaking her head and motioning Yasha back with a graceful sweep of her arm. "Allow me, then," she said brusquely. Hands working quickly, she pulled a small item out of some hiding place at her belt. It looked like a small, unremarkable stone, but when she tapped it gently against the cell door, the locked clicked obediently open. Yasha remained silent as Nathyrra replaced the stone. She wasn't terribly happy considering what other uses the stone might have been put to in the past, but it was best not to bring that up.

Enserric broke the silence. "Well, that could have saved me quite a few dents while we were in the Undermountain."

Sighing, Yasha rolled her eyes before giving the sword a sour look and forcing herself to nod politely to the drow. "Thank you, Nathyrra."

Nathyrra nodded slightly in return, then moved out of Yasha's way as the paladin inched towards the two bodies cautiously. She'd been jumped by apparent corpses before, especially in places where the undead had power. Neither moved as she approached, however, and she finally knelt beside one and gently turned it on its back.

She winced as she first saw the creature's face. Though the figure was humanoid, its head and shoulders were canine, but that wasn't what brought bile to the back of her throat. The creature, whatever it used to be, was a dried husk, it's lips pulled back from its teeth in a final, pained snarl. It looked like it had been completely drained of blood. She forced herself to continue to examine the creature, despite her distaste. There was something odd about the creature; something that filled her with pity and sadness for seeing it come to such a state. It was awkward trying to examine it with Duty's blade being the only real light, however, so she called Deekin over and had him use his light stone so she could see better.

"This is not like any gnoll I've ever seen. Nor any lycanthrope," she said quietly.

Deekin nodded, frowning down at the figure thoughtfully. "Deekin doesn't think it's either of those, boss."

"They are hound archons," Valen said quietly from the cell door.

"How do you…?" she started to ask, but the question died on her lips as she turned and saw the pained look on Valen's face. His jaw clenched as he looked down at the figure before her, then he looked backed down the hall, avoiding her eyes.

"I've encountered them before," he said simply.

"Ah." She frowned down at the archon, searching through the memories of all of the planar studies Master Drogan had her do over the years. His teaching focus had been on those creatures he felt it was likely she would face as a foe, however, and this creature, even in death, didn't feel like a foe. She leaned close to Deekin.

"Do you know what a hound archon is?" she whispered.

"Deekin pretty sure is a kind of angel, boss," he whispered back.

She nodded, and considered the creature sadly. Pulling her gauntlet off, she hesitantly felt its neck and chest for signs of a pulse of breathing. She sighed as she felt none, though she wasn't even certain that angels breathed or had a heartbeat. "But, shouldn't it have…have returned to the heavens when it died?"

"Deekin thinks it depends on what kind of magic brought it here."

"Yes," Enserric replied, "with some summoning spells, their forms are dispersed when they would be killed, and they are sent back to their home plane. Other spells, however, make temporary bodies for them here, and this body remains on this plane when they die." He paused. "Yasha, the creature is dead. There is nothing you can do."

"I know that," she snapped. Bowing her head, she took a deep breath, but the fetid air did nothing to calm her frustration. "But why would the vampires have just left them here?"

"Maybe they haven't had time to clean up? I remember one time the kobold chief left.…"

"That's alright, Deekin," Yasha interrupted, grimacing. "I don't need to know."

The two archons might have died very recently. It was, truly, no use wishing she had arrived sooner, but that didn't keep her from doing so. She stood, frowning down at the archons' bodies, wondering if there would be any point in giving them a burial, as their spirits would have already moved on. Finally, she said a short prayer for them, apologizing for not making it in time, and hoping that their pain was quite over. Then she saluted once with Duty, and left the cell.

She stalked to the end of the dungeon hall, towards the room where the light and smell was strongest. Hesitating, she glanced around the huge open area. The room was nothing more than a platform suspended over a gurgling lava pool. It was filled with strange contraptions and wizards' worktables. A form lay spread-eagled on a pentagram in the center of the floor. She winced when she saw the great white wings. Another angel had met their doom at the hands of the vampire cult.

Then the figure moved and groaned.

She was undeniably still feeling guilty when she entered the workshop. That was the only excuse she could offer for how she charged into the room, intent only on the angelic form trapped within. She turned on Valen angrily when he grabbed her arm and snatched her backwards. She only had the briefest of moments to notice that was not meeting her glare, but was he was instead focused intently over her shoulder. She turned, instinct taking over, but it was too late. Though it missed its target in the base of her skull, the blade still sank deeply under her armor and into her shoulder. She staggered as the blade jerked out as quickly as it had sliced in, her knees buckling under the sudden pain. Valen pushed by her, yelling a battle cry.

Gritting her teeth, Yasha struggled to stay on her feet and turn to meet her assailant. She caught only a small glimpse of him before he disappeared from her sight, though whether it was a magical ability of his or just the red haze that blurred her vision, she wasn't sure. She forced herself into a defensive stance, closing her eyes in hopes that her other senses might help her when her sight had failed. She didn't take time to rationalize what made her sense the next blow coming, but when her instincts cried out to dodge it, she responded. Every nerve in her left arm screeched in protest when she tried to lift her shield to block the strike, however, and as she struggled with its sudden weight the enemy's blade skimmed off the top of her shield and blurred past her face.

A new burning pain sliced across her cheek as he withdrew his blade. She saw a brief glint of fangs in his taunting smile, then a shadow from the flickering light of the lava danced across her vision, and he was gone again. Yasha clenched her jaw against her frustration and pain. She could be frightened later. Right now she, quite literally, had a vampire out for her blood.

Yasha closed her eyes again. Her paladin sense shrieked in her head, pulling the hairs on the back of her neck up. She tried to focus it, past the underlying sense of evil in the temple and beyond a mere sense of the vampire's presence, to try and pinpoint his position with that and her ears as her guides. She's been forced to do it before to save her life in the Shadow Plane. A flicker of fevered memories threatened her concentration then, of glowing red eyes in the darkness and near invisible claws against her skin. She gripped Duty tighter, pulling on the cool, holy magic from the blade to help her focus.

The paladin strained her senses. He was close, but where? The burbling of lava, the clank of Valen's armor as he shifted, and even the protesting sound of Deekin loading his crossbow seemed loud in her ears. Her muscles trembled with battle readiness, dulling the pain but pushing against the stillness. Still she searched. Finally, she was able to focus on the mobile source of dark necromancy in the room. She faced it, tense, and opened her eyes. She saw Valen, and felt a moment of confusion. Then she realized.

"Valen! Beware!" Her cry came mere moments before the vampire struck. She charged forward even as the tiefling staggered back, his hastily raised weapon only partially deflecting the crippling strike aimed under his left arm. Pulling on the magical strength of her gauntlets, Yasha put full force into her swing. The vampire jumped back, snarling. Despite the renewed stab of pain in her shoulder, the paladin pulled Duty back again and redirected the momentum straight into a backhanded swipe. She slashed again and again. Her shield arm grew numb from the throbbing pain, but she ignored defense, pushing her undead foe back step by step from Duty's fury. She couldn't land a blow, but neither did he seem to have a chance to disappear once more. His eyes glinted hungrily, as her sword arm trembled and her strokes became uneven. She was too close for Deekin to risk a shot. Valen had not joined her. She feared for him, briefly, but her hesitation only invited a counter-stroke from the vampire that she was barely able to fend off. She realized too late that the parry had left her left side open, as she could no longer raise her shield to defend it. His vicious look of triumph turned unexpectedly to pained surprise. Desperation crossed his features, just as he melted into a cloud of smoke. As it cleared, Yasha saw Nathyrra through the dispersing figure, pulling back her sword from its lethal strike.

The drow saluted her briefly. "Thank you for keeping him distracted until I could get a good opening," she said, her red eyes glinting.

Yasha let out an explosive breath of relief and slumped against a nearby worktable. "Glad I could help," she replied dryly, sheathing Duty. The vampire's mist surged out of the room and disappeared into the darkness of the hallway they had entered by. "Looks like we'll have to track another one back to its coffin."

She was further relieved when she heard Valen's voice. "Is your wound serious?"

An attempted to roll her left shoulder sent another fiery stab of pain through her. "I'll live." She turned to peer at him, still keeping her weight on the table. "What about you?"

"He pulled back his strike when you attacked," he replied, examining the slice on side. Then he looked up at her and smiled briefly. "I'll live."

"Yasha nodded, then pushed herself off of the table. "Good."

She walked slowly back towards the center of the room, and approached the figure that had led her to dash into the trap. The woman was strikingly beautiful despite countless scars. Her tattered wings were blackened with mold and dirt, but some of their pristine glory shone through yet. A tube, filled with dark red fluid, ran from the crook of her elbow to a strange panel nearby. Yasha suddenly had no doubt as to the fate of the two archons they had encountered earlier. The angels emerald green eyes were piercing when she met Yasha's gaze. Her voice was strong and fierce despite her obvious pain. "Free me!"

Yasha nodded, and looked back at Valen. The tiefling was already examining the strange panel the tube led to.

While he examined the control panel, Yasha knelt beside the angel. She eyed the tube, afraid to touch it without knowing what she was doing for fear of causing more damage. She felt the green gaze on her still and looked back at the prisoner's face. "Who are you?"

"I am," she paused, pained. "I was called Lavoera, a hospitaler from the Outer Planes... Now I languish here: forgotten, abandoned, and left for dead."

Yasha blinked, confused. She had assumed correctly this creature was some sort of angel, but what was a hospitaler? After having to admit that she couldn't even identify the hound archons, she decided that it was something she could research at some other time.

"How did you end up here?" Yasha asked instead. Nathyrra and Deekin joined the paladin as she listened to the angel explain having been sent on some vague mission find someone she didn't know how to find and warn them about being guided by some vague force of evil. She wrinkled her nose and frowned. If all angels' missions were handled like that, it was little wonder most people didn't believe the gods had much interest in their lives. The messengers probably all got lost. Yasha sharpened her gaze on the angel, however, when she confirmed that her blood, and the blood of other celestials, was being used to animate bone golems.

Nathyrra's voice rang with excitement. "This must be how the Valsharess is gathering the undead hordes for her army. We have to find a way to free this creature and stop this."

Yasha nodded. "I agree. Valen?"

"I have this control nearly figure out, I believe. Here." He pushed some button, and then pulled down a lever on the panel. The woman's rigid posture softened and a faint red glow seemed to drain out of the air around her. Yasha started to help her up and winced as the pain hit her once more. Nathyrra and Deekin helped the angel sit instead. She awkwardly stretched out her wings a couple of times, then offered them all a wan smile. Her voice was sincerely grateful but full of sadness when she spoke.

"Thank you. I know I've made a mess of the whole thing but at least I'm not being held captive anymore. I don't know how I'm going to explain this to my superiors..."

Yasha frowned her. It hardly seemed fair for her to blame herself, as her mission was hardly well defined or planned in Yasha's opinion. Besides, the sight of a saddened angel was heart-rending. "Come now," she said, offering as much of an encouraging smile as she could muster. "It's not so bad."

"No? It's pretty bad... But I'm still here, right?" Her face brightened slightly. "I'm still on the Material Plane. My superiors didn't say my mission had to be done right away. There's still time, isn't there?"

It was not so difficult to smile, now, with the angel's face brightening. "How are you feeling?"

"Me?" She chuckled briefly then struggled to stand. Staggering, she caught herself before toppling over, using poor Deekin's head to stabilize herself. "Whoa.… Sorry. A little woozy, there. I don't think I'll be flying anytime soon. But it's... well it's better than it was, don't you think?"

Yasha nodded and looked down. Beside her, Valen knelt and pressed a small, uncapped vial of healing into her hand. She grinned gratefully at him and drank deeply of the liquid. She watched the angel get her bearings a bit, confidence and power returning by the moment now that she was free. "What do you intend to do now?" Yasha finally asked, pushing herself to stand again as well.

"Why, complete my mission of course." She replied brightly. "I'm supposed to find someone and give them a message... I'm not really sure who I'm supposed to find but... Well, things have a way of working themselves out. Serendipity, right?"

Yasha tilted her head in acknowledgement, enjoying that fact that such movement no longer caused great pain. Perhaps she should have a bit more faith, though it might be a bit unfair to compare her faith to an angel's. She weighed her next words in her mind for a bit, before finally decided the need was great enough. "I could use your help."

She half expected to be rebuffed, for the angel did have a pre-existing mission of her own. Her face brightened even more, however, when she replied. "Really? I'd... I'd love to. I mean, this person I was supposed to meet, they could be anywhere, right? After all, I have to start somewhere and it might as well be by returning a favor. What do you need?"

"There's a rebellion against the drow," Yasha explained hesitantly, "and the rebel camp needs your protection."

"The drow? The vampires were using my blood to fashion golems for the drow army! Won't they be surprised to meet me on the fields of battle." Yasha smiled at the sudden exuberance the woman had. It was certainly not the paladin's imagination, as her wings seemed to mend and brightened before Yasha's eyes as well. She was about to tell the angel where the Seer's camp was when she closed her eyes and started turning her head back and forth. "Rebels, rebels, rebels... Got it!" She face upwards and pointed in what Yasha figured was probably the right general direction.

"Okay, on my way!" she said, disappearing in a shower of brilliant light. Yasha pursed her lips at the spot where the angel had once stood. Perhaps she had been unfair in thinking her superiors, whoever they are, had been lax in giving her information. It seemed this angel didn't wait long for explanations.

"She will be quite useful against the army of the Valsharess," Nathyrra commented dryly, "assuming she manages to find our camp."

Valen crossed his arms and pursed his lips. "The Seer's army is a rag-tag mix of outcasts and misfits." He looked at Yasha, mischief in his eyes despite the straight face. "I think that deva will fit in quite well."

Yasha shook her head at her companions, and stretched her arms. The pain in her shoulder was down to a twinge. "We have accomplished our main goal. However, I hope you won't mind if we finish cleaning this place up before we leave." She paused, and peered back at the crimson stain on her back. "Well, after I clean my armor."

There were no objections.


	20. Chapter 19

NOTE: Normally I don't do author's notes in the chapters. However, I wanted to apologize to those that have been waiting for this chapter. Between some hectic stuff in life and a serious case of writer's block this chapter has been long in coming. This is the part that has been difficult to write, however, and I'm hoping that the following chapters will come more quickly. I did want to stop and thank all of those that offered me encouragement during this time. Thank you.

Yasha wiped away another trickle of sweat from the back of her neck and tried to ignore the furnace heat from the bubbling lava all around. The smell of sulfur hung heavily in the air. Hellish red light wavered across the platform before them, but the dark crevice that marred the wall swallowed all light that touched it. The brooding, menacing feeling that emanated from it made the paladin's skin prickle with goose bumps despite the heat.

"Well," Nathyrra said, crossing her arms, "we have explored the rest of this temple. This crevice is the only way left to go. The master vampire must be within."

Yasha nodded once. "It seems that way," she replied slowly. Certainly the master of this temple was beyond. She was as certain of this as she was of the angry pulse of Duty in her hand. Just as certain, in fact, that the depth of power she felt could not come from the vampire they had defeated upstairs. This felt much different, much worse. She scowled at the gaping hole in the wall, trying to filter through everything all of her senses were telling her for some idea of what they might face in the darkness beyond.

"So," Valen said, interrupting her thoughts. "Will we be entering it to track him down, my lady, or do you hope to kill him only with that dirty look?"

Yasha rolled her eyes towards the cavern ceiling then turned her attention to the tiefling. Pursing her lips, she gave him a considering look before responding. "Do you think that might work?" she asked dryly.

A corner of his mouth lifted and he raised an eyebrow. "Unlikely, I think."

She sighed dramatically, slumping her shoulders in mock dejection before shrugging. "Then I suppose we shall have to do it the hard way after all."

Yasha started forward, but stopped abruptly as an unnatural mist began to coalesce before the crevice. A sharper, more focused sense of evil came with it, along with the unmistakable presence of undead. The paladin readied Duty, fearing the source of the brooding menace was taking form, only to start with surprise as the figure finally took form. After his defeat upstairs, Yasha had presumed that they would not see the vampire again outside of his coffin, but Master Soldaris had come to meet them once more.

"You have made it this far, have you?" he asked, his voice deadly cool and his stance composed.

"Obviously," Yasha replied. She frowned at him hesitantly. "I am surprised to see you so lively…relatively speaking. All of your various undead lackeys were not especially mobile after they fled to their coffins."

He sneered, though Yasha thought she saw a flicker of fear or doubt on his face for a moment. "You have no idea how foolish you are. You will have no chance against Vix'thra, the sacred one."

The attack was sudden, but not unexpected. Yasha gritted her teeth as she felt his will come against hers, just as it had when she had first entered the temple, and just as he had attempted during their battle upstairs. There was wild fierceness to his alien presence that wasn't in it before, however; a desperation and anger that belied his calm exterior. The hostility smothered her, raking against her mind. She heard mocking laughter. Then, the assault stopped as quickly as it began. The laughter continued, however, and it took Yasha a moment to recognize the voice as Nathyrra's. She looked at the drow in surprise and confusion.

"Strange," the drow said dryly to the vampire before them. "Before, you spoke only of how you would kill us, drain us dry of blood, and offer our bones to your master. Now, it seems, it is your master that we need fear. Did something happen to change your plans?"

Yasha blinked rather owlishly at Nathyrra, still trying to center herself. She was laughing at the vampire; taunting him. But why? Valen stepped up beside her. He had raised his weapon sometime during her moments of mental conflict with the vampire, but he now fell back into a casual stance, eyeing Nathyrra narrowly. For his part, Soldaris stiffened and squared his shoulders as the drow's barbs hit their mark. Pulling his lips from his teeth in a feral snarl, he opened his mouth to respond, only to be interrupted by Deekin.

"Boss? You think he decided we didn't look tasty enough?"

Yasha licked her teeth, enjoying the confounded expression on the head priest's face as her mind cleared once again. The vampire was still blinking at the kobold, taken aback, when Yasha replied. "Perhaps," she replied slowly. "If so, I'm not certain if I should feel insulted or not."

"It is possible he has come to surrender," Valen added. The tiefling stood with his hands clasped in a relaxed grip on his great mace, which itself was pointed harmlessly at the floor. He looked, at first glance, as if he expected no threat from the undead creature before him, though Yasha saw the tense balance of his stance and the sharpness of the glance he threw in her direction.

"Surrender! You fools. Soon all the realms will worship my master, and his priesthood shall rule all the lands! Your soul will be Vix'thra's for all eternity!"

Yasha turned to face Soldaris once more. The effects of her companions' taunts were plain in the vampire's snarling words and bared teeth. She smiled.

"I'm afraid my soul is previously spoken for," she replied crisply. If looks could kill, she would have been in real trouble, but thankfully that wasn't a power common in vampires. It seemed, however, that he didn't appreciate them adding insult to his injuries. She considered, just for a moment, what she would do if he did attempt to surrender. Unfortunately, she would have to accept it, but she took some guilty satisfaction in the certainty she felt that it was not the vampire's intention at all.

"Why would he risk himself to surrender?" Yasha continued. "We were not able to find him in his bolthole, wherever that was. He could have stayed there until he had regained all of his strength. No, he came because his master bade him to." She looked at the vampire questioningly. "One, final act of loyalty?"

Master Soldaris, however, was evidently no longer in a talkative mood. He leapt forward with savage fury, no longer bothering with the spells he had used to such devastating effect before. Instead, he dove forward with supernatural speed. Everything wavered as a wave of pure power hit her mind. She staggered, and between one heartbeat and the next he was on her. Turning instinctively, she avoided most of the impact as he slammed into her, but his claws scrambled over the mail at her throat and he pushed her back with sheer brute force. The lava still bubbled behind her. She could feel its heat. Her feet scrambled for some purchase on the stone floor. He was inside her defenses. Neither Duty nor her shield would help. For a time stopping moment, she knew for certain that even magic of her enchanted gauntlets would not give her the strength to stop the vampire's momentum.

But she had been trained diligently by Master Drogan. That training and her own experience kept panic at bay for those crucial seconds. She did the last thing her expected. Her shield and Duty slipped from her hands, and she threw herself backwards. He followed her, bearing her down towards the ground with tremendous force. He didn't guess her intentions until it was too late. His own strength and momentum turned against him as Yasha used all of her own augmented strength to throw him sideways, off of her and off of the narrow path.

She saw the realization hit him. He seemed frozen in time for a moment, a look of horror on his face. There was no time for him to turn to mist and avoid his fate before he fell into the lava.

Yasha turned her face away, shielding her head with her arms as the vampire's cry was abruptly cut off. Pinpricks of pain burned into her back and shoulders as tiny embers hissed into her skin. She lay like that for a few moments, breathing raggedly, as her body trembled with the delayed rush of adrenaline, pain and panic. She sucked in a deep breath of the sulfur laden air, forcing herself to calm, mumbling a prayer of thanks to Torm for her continued survival.

Many footsteps surrounded her, and she heard Deekin's worried voice close by her head. "Boss! Boss! You OK?"

Yasha looked up at the kobold. Both he and Valen stood beside her, watching her with concern. "I'm…I'm fine, Deekin. Thank you." She smiled wanly at Valen when he offered her a hand up, and let him help pull her onto her shaking legs.

Nathyrra nodded once at her, and turned towards the lava. She eyed the place where the vampire had fallen dubiously.

Yasha followed her gaze and rubbed her own neck ruefully. "I suppose a stake through the heart is a more traditional way to kill a vampire."

"This seems fairly effective, however," Valen replied dryly. "Quick thinking, my lady."

Yasha smiled hesitantly at the admiration and relief in Valen's voice. "Thank you."

Beside her, Deekin huffed. "Boss? Deekin's thinking that's anti-climatic, though."

Brows furrowing, Yasha tilted her head and tried very hard not to scowl down at the little bard. "What?"

He blinked up at her. "Deekin's thinking it won't work well for his book, boss. Big vampire master with big threatening speech and then, 'poof', he's gone. Deekin's thinking his bark was worse than his bite."

Yasha felt her face go slack-jawed for a moment. "Worse than," she echoed in shock. The beginnings of a toothy grin touch the kobold's face, and Yasha crossed her arms. "Deekin, I cannot believe you just said that about a vampire."

Behind her, she heard Valen's quiet chuckle. Even Nathyrra seemed vaguely amused. "Sorry boss," he said, smiling quickly. Then he turned towards the lava and considered it for a moment. "Still, Deekin thinking he writes the vampire out of the book. Or give him bit part, maybe."

Shaking her head, Yasha walked away from the ledge where the vampire had fallen. She didn't particular want to consider the bubbling pool of molten rock any longer, nor the vampire's fate that she had so very narrowly avoided. She collected Duty and her shield, and walked towards the huge crack in the wall that she had been approaching before. Darkness still brooded in its depths, and as she got closer, the smell of old, dry death replaced the smell of the lava. Duty burned with holy fire as she poked the sword within the crevice, pushing away the shadows enough to show an uneven but ancient path leading down. The powerful menace still survived, and lurked somewhere below them.

"Damn."

"What's wrong?" Nathyrra asked from behind her.

"Sometimes I do hate it when I'm right," she replied, turning. "Buck up, Deekin. I think you may get your climatic battle after all."

He smiled at her, dashing away from the lava's edge. "Really boss? Huzzah! Deekin knew he could count on you!"

Staring back into the dark entryway, Yasha wished she felt half as enthusiastic and confident as Deekin sounded.


	21. Chapter 20

The sulfurous smell from above faded away completely, and the dry smell of death lay heavily in the cooling air. The dark crevice didn't widen much as it zigzagged into the darkness. There were small parts on the path that were well smoothed, as if worn by the steady tread of feet for hundreds of years. Mostly, however, the path was uneven and treacherous, and led first down, and then back up through obsidian laced rock. Those that had walked this path before had not seen fit to smooth the natural structures aside from the incidental results of their passing. Yasha frequently had to duck under a low overhang, or wedge herself around narrow, sharp corners, and the path itself occasionally had sudden drop offs of several feet. It made the trek slow and dangerous.

Yasha used the fiercely burning Duty to light her way. Throughout the tainted temple above, the sword had vibrated with a low hum, but as they wound their way deeper and deeper into the cave, the holy sword began a low, never ending warning. The darkness continued to cling to the creviced walls and ceilings, despite Duty's white fire. The shadows moved in a dark counterpoint to the flickering, magical flames and seemed to claw menacingly whenever Yasha looked elsewhere, only to recede when she focused on them. The heaviness of ancient menace in the air seemed to inject a haunting life into the dark movements.

Her memory latched on to other times, when knowing the difference between the real claws and the ones her mind conjured up was a matter of life and death. She could still feel the ones she had failed to see sinking into her flesh, their iciness defying the life within her and drawing her strength away. Every stone, every breath of air, every creature crouched in the shadows had hungered to smother the spark of her life in that dark place, and she felt that same feeling creeping up on her now. Yasha clutched her sword, angry at herself even as a familiar dread caused her heart to hammer in her ears. She had no time to be imagining false dangers, or remembering past horrors. This was not the Shadow Plane, and something horrible and very, very real lie in wait for them at the end of this jagged path.

She dragged herself to a stop, frustrated and ashamed, when Nathyrra warned of an opening to a cavern ahead. She said nothing as the drow slid into the darkness to investigate it. Yasha held Duty close to her leg, ostensibly to limit the amount of light that might seep around the corner, but truly the cool, tingling power of the holy blade gave her comfort even through the armor she wore.

She kept her eyes firmly shut as she struggled to focus once more, abandoning keeping watch to Valen and Deekin. Not only was their vision better in the dark, but she would not have to see the writhing shadows. She flexed her grip on her shield and forced a long breath while she recited the Litany of Virtues in her head. It had kept the threads of her sanity together during her time in the Shadow Plane. Surely it could push away the mere reminder of that fear.

_Let the Flame of Hope live in my heart. It is the Song that fills the Silence. It is the Light that drives back the Darkness. I shall keep Hope in my heart, for it will give me strength when my strength fails me._

She made a conscious choice to loosen the muscles of her jaw, and her teeth ached in grateful response. She wondered if it was her imagination that she felt eyes on her, and if it was her companions or otherwise, but kept her eyes closed regardless. She also wondered, for a moment, what they thought of her reaction, but decided it likely wouldn't help to know either way. She shook off such thoughts, and focused on the steady hum of Duty's power, and the lesser but still comforting tingle of the protective spells they had cast earlier that day.

_Let the Call of Duty sound in my heart. It is the Shield that forbids Temptation. It is the Sword that severs Fear. I shall keep Duty in my heart, for it will give me Will when my will fails me._

"You should see this."

Yasha jerked and snapped her eyes open when Nathyrra's whispered words interrupted her thoughts, so close that she heard them quite clearly. She frowned at the drow's tense expression then nodded and moved to follow. Nathyrra, however, stood her ground, giving the glowing sword in Yasha's hand a meaningful look.

Yasha felt tension leaping immediately to annoyance. "You want me to see something, no? I cannot see without some light," she hissed.

Nathyrra's eyes briefly flashed red in the dim light, but Yasha already regretted her burst of temper. Snapping at her companions only made things worse. She held her hand up to forestall the drow's words, and slowly slid Duty back into her sheath. For a moment, the blackness was absolute, then she gently pressed on the blade's hilt, pushing it forward until a thumb length of the fiery blade was free. She blinked a few times, as her eyes struggled to find sense in the low light. She saw little more than the colorless and indistinct shapes of her companions against the vague background of the rocky walls, outlined by the haze of the lingering protective magic. Oddly, the lack of light also meant a comparative lack of shadows, and the heavy fear that had gnawed on her nerves lightened a bit. She grimaced at this line of thought, and sighed once more.

"Better?" she asked in resignation.

Nathyrra seemed to look at her speculatively, though in the low light it was hard to tell. There was no mistaking the brief smile that crossed her lips, however, before the drow silently turned and led the way into the cavern beyond. In the dim light, Yasha could not tell what reaction Deekin and Valen might have had to the brief exchange, aside from the fact that they both seemed ready to follow. She shifted her grip so that she held her partially sheathed sword across her body with her right hand, twisting it a bit so that most of the dim light fell before her. She walked forward carefully, her eyes on the uneven floor before her while her other senses – mundane and arcane – strained to police everything else.

Despite her limited sight, some subtle change in the air movements told her that the narrow passage had given way to a huge cavern, though the oppressive and menacing feel did not waver. Ahead of her, Nathyrra turned and led them on a path that kept tightly against the right-hand wall. Once or twice, Yasha lost sight of her drow guide, but whenever the paladin slowed Nathyrra's soft soled boots would come back into view to guide her on. Behind her, her strained ears picked out Deekin's tread, his boots quick and light against the stone floor. Valen's slightly heavier footsteps sounded a slower counterpoint. She thought, once or twice, another sound slid through the darkness, but she couldn't be sure. The distance seemed interminable, though pacing after her half-seen guide likely made it seem farther than it was. Yasha was beginning to wonder just how much faster the drow moved without her companions, to have made it this distance and back in the time she had scouted ahead, when Nathyrra finally halted their progress.

Great teeth as long as her arms loomed out of the darkness, reflecting the cool white light from Duty's blade dully. Yasha's eyes were eventually able to trace the huge skeletal snout backward into the darkness. Behind a gaping eye cavity larger than her head, the shape of a monstrously large horn graced the reptilian skull. For a heart stopping few seconds, she wondered if they had indeed stumbled upon the lair of something that ate such huge wyrms as a matter of course. Then the less panicked portion of her brain pointed out that the rest of the skeleton was laid out behind the skull to simulate a sleeping drake, and the bones were not gnawed and scattered about. She eyed the skeleton again and wondered what sort of dragon it was.

She didn't realize she had spoken aloud until Deekin answered. "It is…errr…was a red dragon, boss," he said, his voice hushed.

Only glittering eyes were clearly visible of his shadowed form. She pursed her lips and gave him a puzzled look. "How do you know?"

His half seen hand moved to gesture at his head. "The horns," he replied matter-of-factly.

She considered the great skull before her, and tried to imagine amber eyes in the sockets and red scales stretched over its bones. She wasn't sure which vision was more disconcerting, the dead one before her or the living one her mind had conjured up, so went back to considering why it was there in the first place.

"Either a huge and old red dragon died in its sleep," she said slowly, "or this one's bones were set out like this in some sort of…ritual manner."

Valen stepped forward from behind her left shoulder. He held his hand out, briefly, as if feeling something in the air between himself and the great skeleton. "I would suggest the later," he said after a few moments. "There is strong magic here."

Nathyrra nodded in agreement, and Yasha squinted at the remains. The air seemed heavy with malice and magic, but her companions must have greater sensitivity to such raw energies than she to feel any particular source to it. Could it be another of the many bone constructs they had fought before, this one made from a dragon to give it the power to defend their master's lair? If so, why was it laying immobile and not leaping to the attack? She closed her eyes and concentrated, struggling to feel the concentration of magic her companions had confirmed.

"Errr…Yasha." Yasha blinked in frustration as the disembodied voice of the sword at her back splintered her concentration.

"Not now, Enserric," she replied briefly, struggling to focus once more.

"No," Enserric corrected slowly, "Now is absolutely the time."

Then she felt it, the low level warn her nerves had labored under, the drifting sense of Evil and Darkness in the air, had heightened. Her senses sounded an alarm with a sudden shriek, Duty was unsheathed and her body was turning before she consciously recognized the danger behind her. Two of the horrible golems stood menacingly not far away, their bleached hodge-podge of bones reflecting Duty's sudden fiery flare with reluctant brilliance. Behind them, however, towered a shadow. The bone golems had been disgusting and disturbing, made, as they were, from the skeletal remains of many bodies, animated by magic. The huge figure, however, radiated menace and evil, slowly taking form as it moved sinuously closer.

It pulled leathery black skin away from huge teeth in a draconic sneer. Its huge wings spread wide, blotting out the sky.

No. There was no sky. And as the creature advanced, the darkness peeled off of it to reveal bare, glittering bones. The vast wings were skeletal, and blocked nothing. This was no shadow drake from memory and nightmare. This was a dracolich, a flesh and bone dragon that had embraced undeath of its own accord.

This was worse.

Training and long habit took over. She blocked and counter-attacked against the bone golem that attacked her before she could shake the numbed reaction of her mind. She clenched Duty's hilt, willing herself to focus on taking down the golem as quickly as possible. She had known that something terrible had waited in the darkness of this cave. That it was an undead dragon could not make a difference. She would not allow it to. Others depended on her to focus; to live; to win. Deekin, Valen, Nathyrra, the Seer and her followers, and the people of the desolate village at the temple's mouth would all suffer were she to fall to fear now.

Slowly, she took over the automatic parries and thrusts, putting her full will and mind into the fight. She recognized Valen at her side, his crushing blows shattering the construct's bones and splintering its magic. She grimaced, looked away from their foe as it staggered from another of his blows and confirmed her fears.

The great lich was casting spell after spell on itself, and even as she watched, the unmistakable effects of a stone skin spell flared into being. She considered urging Valen to break off and attack the draconic creature, or asking him to hold the golem while she did. But the golem staggered even as the thought crossed her mind, and its magic began to falter.

Somewhere behind her, she heard Deekin break out into song. He hadn't the sweetest voice in the land, for sure, and his song was punctuated by the arcane, lilting calls of his spells. As odd as it all was, his singing about their upcoming doom filled her with a fierce defiance.

Duty bit deeply once more into the golem before her, snapping the final threads of the magic that kept it going. She turned from it as it fell, just in time to see an enchanted bolt from Deekin's crossbow slam into the chest of the other, and Nathyrra's blades land the final blow. Nathyrra staggered as the thing fell, wincing at some unseen wound, but did not look terribly injured. In the edges of the light from Yasha's blade, she saw Deekin's small form, his on-going song of doom hitching only as moment as he pulled another bolt into his crossbow.

Snarling a battle cry, Valen had already leapt from her side and charged the lich. Yasha could not suppress a shudder as she realized the powerful tiefling came not even to the dragon's knees as it reared above him. His first blow rebounded harmlessly, the creature's spell protecting it from harm. Yasha sucked in a deep breath of the soul chilling air, braced herself, then followed his charge, angling to flank the mighty creature.

A bolt whizzed past her, its path true as it sped to the lich's hip, but it also merely impacted against the creature's protective spells. Yasha's charge brought Duty against the creature's spell shields right behind. Duty flared, even brighter than before, its pure light washing away a layer of the circle of spells. She pushed at the fear that clawed at her mind. This was just like the drow she had dueled and just as with the undead master of the golems. They would whittle away its defenses, and it would fall. It had to fall.

She clenched her teeth as it kicked away Valen, sending him careening back against the uneven cavern floor. She had a moment to watch him pull himself off of the rocks woozily, and breathe a sigh of relief that he was still alive. Then the great skeletal thing turned its attention fully to her, its eyes nothing but red pinpricks of light far, far above her head. She raised her shield and drew back Duty defiantly against it.

Gathering magical energies prickled against her skin, even through the protective enchantments she had up. This time, the dragon was not casting a defensive spell. Yasha worked frantically on bringing Duty's magic against the creature's own. She knew Duty's physical strike would do little against the great dragon, but the magic that lay in the blade might do enough damage to distract the undead beast from its spell, or allow the magic or weapons of her companions to do the same. First, though, she had to get through its defenses. Duty flared into bright light and rang clearly with each strike. A layer of protective spells died, then another. Just a little more to go.

Goosebumps raced up her arms, and she felt the hair on the back of her neck try to rise. Then the world was filled with fire and light, and she felt the moment when her own protective magic snapped. She could feel the dragon's spell crawling over her armor, burrowing in to chinks and weak spots and into her skin with claws of fire. Every fiber of her body screamed in agony as the spell burned through her with all of its remaining strength. As suddenly as it started, the spell ended, leaving only echoes of agony. She was fairly pleasantly surprised to hear her heart stutter back into something close to a normal rhythm. She took a moment to savor the steady pounding in her ears before trying to wrench open her eyes.

The world looked strange, beyond just being out of focus. She blinked painfully, and realized that she was lying on her stomach somewhere on the cavern floor. She blurrily saw a wisp of smoke curling up from her arm, just where the gauntlets and the armor met unevenly.

That was likely a bad thing.

The floor trembled beneath her. Then, a strange cry echoed in the cavern. Fumbling with both sword and shield, she pulled herself awkwardly up from the floor, wavering onto her knees. She blinked and rubbed her hands with the back of her smoldering gauntlet, wondering if she was hallucinating.

The dracolich was still up, of course. Now, however, instead of rearing up on its hind legs, it had fallen on to all four feet. It snarled at a small figure before it, its phantom voice able to give meaning to the gesture even without lips to pull from its teeth. There, blocking the undead dragon's path to where she lay was neither Valen nor even Nathyrra, but Deekin, his short sword high as he screamed his strange, high cry once more and charged.

She blinked at the scene numbly, and rubbed her eyes once more just to be sure. The spell that coated the dragon's bones in granite had not subsided, but that didn't stop the little kobold from dancing around the thing's feet, his blade flashing in the dim light. The dragon brought its head down low, tilting its head in obvious disbelief. Deekin dared to dance close to the great head, landing a glancing blow on the massive snout. It couldn't have hurt it, not with the stone spell still up, but still it flinched away in surprise. Then it snapped at him, snagged him, and tossed him aside as the kobold's pained and surprised yell shrieked through the air. She watched him crumple to the ground, and her numb disbelief flashed into shocked anger. Without quite remembering getting up, she felt clearly the shocks of pain the vibrated through her as her feet pounded her forward.

She reached for and found the supportive divine power, cool and strengthening, as she ran. Even if she had the training to form it into a powerful enough offensive spell, though, she hadn't the time. She instead savored the feel of the power cooling her burning skin and muscles as it gathered within her, and could only focus on getting to Deekin's side before that great claw crushed the still kobold. Each agonizing step took forever. How could she have been thrown back so far? She threw herself forward, bringing her shield up even as she fell to her knees before her prone friend.

_Torm protect us._

The impact crashed through her shield arm, reawakening the pain. Magic thundered around and inside her; the gauntlets' strengthening power, the protective enchantments of her shield and armor, and the raw, divine energy that snapped and curled through the air. The phantom voice of the skeletal creature grew into a frustrated roar. Yasha looked up past the fading glow from her shield to see the powerful clawed hand pulling back, smoke curling from its joints. She looked down at her own still smoldering arm, and smiled grimly as she pulled herself to her feet.

"Serves you right," she said hoarsely. She glanced down at Deekin, and felt tears sting her eyes. There was no time, though. No time.

She charged again, under the raised and smoking arm, and attacked its other forearm. Duty's clear tone rang powerfully as it hit, and a flash of light washed upward, finally peeling away the final stony spell. She didn't wait to watch it as it progressed up the dragon's body, but forced her aching arm to bring Duty to bear again and again. Physically, the blows did little more than chip the massive forearm bone, but that was not her true target. It was the necromantic magic that tied the bones together, working as its muscle and tendon, which shuddered under each impact. Valen re-enter the fray at the opposite hind leg, and she thought she glimpsed Nathyrra flicker in and out of the shadows to strike as well. The thing roared again, its pain echoing throughout the cavern. Yasha thought nothing of defense, letting her shield arm fall to her side as she hammered again and again at the great arm before her.

She felt it when the last of the frayed magic snapped. Above and around her, the great bones ground together and began to fall. She scrambled clear, and was heading for Deekin's side before the first bones had a chance to slam into the ground behind her. She collapsed as she reached him, and Duty clattered to the ground rather unceremoniously as she struggled to free her hands from the gauntlets. Reaching around in the gloom, she searched blindly for a wrist or throat or any point where she could feel for a pulse. She cursed the sound of thundering bones that reverberated in the cavern, struggling to numb her fingers to it while she quested for some sign that the kobold yet lived. It was only when the last of the bones had hit and the cavern had started to descend into silence once more did she feel it; a weak fluttering pulse under the scaly skin.

She grabbed at the chain around her neck, fishing out the worn, wooden amulet from under her armor. Grasping it tightly with her left hand, she pressed her right firmly on his chest.

The spell was not a powerful one, but she felt his pulse grow stronger under her hand, and his chest rose as he took a shuddering breath. Though he otherwise stayed still, she bowed her head gratefully, and murmered a second prayer of thanks.

She looked up to see Valen and Nathyrra standing close by. She could not make out their faces in the dim light, but offered a weak smile to them anyway. "He will live."

Beyond them, faint light that still shone from the jumble of bones that was their adversary. Rocking back on her heels, she sighed. "Well, that wasn't so…."

Abruptly, the light on the bones flared brighter, then began to peel itself free. The ghastly stuff coalesced and swirled above the remains, gathering power and growing brighter with each passing moment. Then a draconic head formed out of the flickering ghost fire, two crimson sparks marking its baleful gaze as it turned towards them. It growled and launched itself up and free of the bones. It circled once, twice, three times, then darted away and disappeared into the darkness. From some distant part of the cavern, a phantom hissing laugh filled the air. Yasha looked from the jumble of bones to the draconic body they had been investigating when the thing had attacked, and an awful explanation for the skeletal body occurred to her.

"…bad," he finished weakly.


	22. Chapter 21

Thank you to all (and any) who have the patience to continue to read Yasha's continuing adventures. I know the updates are few and far between, but I truly do appreciate the feedback I get. In game terms, Yasha has used the paladin's lay on hands ability to heal herself and others, as well as the Divine Might and Divine Shield feats, which convert raw turn undead abilities into protective and offensive energies. Of course, she also Taunts her opponents, but that's par for the course, isn't it?

Yasha closed her eyes and bowed her head in exhausted frustration. Before them, another mighty pile of bones lay battered and crumbled, but the dracolich's cunning spirit had fled true death once more. Fingering an empty healing vial between her fingers, Yasha considered their situation. Their healing supplies were nearly exhausted, while the undead dragon rose in a new body, fully refreshed, again and again and again. Deekin's still form lay as far from the battles as they could carry him before Vix'thra had come after them again, but he only barely clung to life. She shook her head, and made a sour face before nodding up to Nathyrra.

"Let's go with your plan, then," she conceded finally. The drow's eyes glowed crimson in the shadowed cavern as Yasha agreed to her daring plan. "But be careful."

Yasha sighed as the drow turned away eagerly, and tried to shrug off the gloomy weariness that plagued her mind and body. Rubbing her worn symbol of Torm, Yasha bowed her head once more. "May Torm and Tymora guide your path."

"Eilistraee kyorl dos," came the disembodied reply.

A surprised look in the drow's direction revealed nothing but shadows, which wasn't terribly surprising. Nathyrra had already disappeared to start her role in this gambit. It was time Yasha and Valen started theirs. They looked at each other, and Yasha nodded at him, acknowledging the grim determination in his eyes and indicating she was ready. She could only hope she could find that in level of it within herself.

They charged towards the distant noises in the darkness that indicated where Vix'thra's next body was reviving. They took it off guard for the first time in their encounter, and Yasha's blade actually struck the creature full before it could sheath itself in a stony shell. She smiled grimly as the blow sent a shock wave of holy magic through the creature's body that staggered it, and ruined its protective casting. With a ghostly roar, the mighty creature focused on her. Valen's weapon pounded against the creature's exposed flank as he dashed in before it could bring its snapping tail into play. It shrugged him off, though, first trying to pin her beneath one of its massive claws, then falling forward to snap at her in frustration. She was immediately on the defensive, dodging claws and teeth and spells, and couldn't get Duty close enough to its might body to land a telling blow after the first hit.

Then again, this time, that wasn't her goal.

Valen caught her eye, motioning briefly back and to her left. She didn't have time to respond. With every dodge and feint, however, she retreated in that direction. Vix'thra followed, pressing his advantage. He lowered his head, and stalked her on all fours like a great cat, snapping his huge saber fangs with every pass of his head. She drew him backwards, encouraging his confident drive, though she was a little concerned by how very easy it was to feign terror of the towering dracolich.

Then the creature froze, its great, glowing eyes narrowing to horizontal slits. It reared back on its hind legs, twisting its skeletal neck to look back in the very direction Yasha had been leading it away from.

"Hey!" Yasha yelled. She growled at herself at how faint her voice sounded. Bracing herself, she took a step forward. "Face me you…you…." she paused, her mind scrambling for some way to regain its attention. She switched to draconic, and was somewhat surprised at how well the sibilant language carried in the dark cavern. "Face me you overgrown lizard."

"Oh, that's so original," came a low voice from over her shoulder. Yasha made a sour face, but ignored Enserric for the moment, as the draconic skull had swiveled back to look at her.

It snarled once more, disdain filling its voice, and responded in her own language. "Do not butcher the language of your betters." Like its growls and casting, its booming voice was tempered by a ghostly echo, as if its voice traveled to her from the bottom of a deep well. "You speak it like a kobold."

Yasha couldn't hold back a startled laugh. It was not conducive to getting the thing to respect her, perhaps, but she couldn't help it. There was a very good reason she spoke draconic with a kobold accent, after all. Either that, or she was just a touch hysterical; one or the other. The laughing seem to enrage the undead dragon, for it turned fully towards her once more, rearing up so far its skull disappeared into the shadows of the cavern's ceiling, and only its eyes shown down from the massive height. Yasha swallowed back a pang of fear as the creature was cloaked in shadows.

_This was not the shadow drake. This was not the same._

"Fool, your games are nothing," it boasted, its eyes blood red beacons high above. "You cannot kill a god."

Yasha knew some sages that might argue that point, considering events in Faerun's history. She laughed again, mostly since it seemed so effective at keeping its attention, and continued with what draconic she knew. "Here and I had assumed that this notion was just trickery by your followers. Who would have thought that it was you who was so deluded?"

"DELUDED!" It fell forward on all four feet with such force that the floor shook, and the sound of rocks clattering from the walls and ceiling echoed from all around her. She licked her lips and backed away once more. "YOU…INSIGNIFICANT…WORM!"

"Oh, look who's using clichéd insults, NOW," she replied, gripping both Duty and her shield tightly. She braced herself for an enraged attack as it hefted one great clawed foot from the floor, but was startled when it began to chant a spell instead. She swayed foot to foot for precious moments, undecided as to whether she should charge, or stay back and attempt to dodge the worst of whatever spell he would throw at her. Thus, when he turned and directed the powerful bolt of lightning back over his shoulder, she was utterly unprepared to even scream a warning.

The great bolt of blue tore across the cavern in an instant, slamming into the far wall just as the crack of thunder from its passing boomed through Yasha's armor and into her bones. Was that a figure she saw dodging away from the deadly strike? Did it get clear? Then the darkness closed in once more, and cursing her own short sightedness in staring straight into the electric flash of light, she struggled to blink away the blinding after image. The expected blow from the dragon didn't fall on her head, however, for it instead launched another spell at the far end of the cavern, this one raining fire against the crumbling rocks. Still blinking desperately, Yasha charged the creature again, trusting that its size alone would allow her blade to hit despite her partial blindness. Somewhere ahead and to her left, she heard Valen's strike a powerful blow as well. Both she and Valen focused single-mindedly on beating the creature down, and she could hear his blows as much as she could feel Duty connect with the massive bones of the creature that towered over her.

It laughed at them, even as half of its spells fizzled to nothingness, his casting ruined by their blows. It laughed, for the half that exploded across the cavern seemed to have done their job. It continued to laugh even as the magic that held another of its bodies faded away, and the thing crumbled into a pile of gigantic bones. As before, its spirit rose as an evil mist from the ruined body, and it grinned at her mockingly before spreading insubstantial wings and launching itself once more in the shadowed cavern.

The steady pound of footsteps drew her eyes away from the disappearing spirit. Valen was taking off towards the area that took the brunt of the draconic spell fire. It was also, of course, the area that Nathyrra had planned to go to seek out the creatures true heart – its phylactery. Yasha grabbed Duty tighter and took off after the tiefling's receding footsteps, still blinking away the last of the spots before her eyes. They had gambled that Nathyrra could finish the combat at last with this tactic, and Yasha only hoped that they had not lost her life on this particular toss of the dice.

Dread held Yasha's heart still for a moment, as she caught up to find Valen kneeling beside the crumpled form of their drow companion. Nathyrra groaned, then, and turned in response to Valen's gentle tug on her shoulder. She had to have been quick on her feet indeed to have survived the onslaught Vix'thra had sent her way, but the fiery magics had still taken their toll. The light of Duty's white flames revealed vicious, angry burns covering most of the skin that Yasha could see, and in some place her blackened leather armor still smoldered. Nathyrra groaned once more, waving both Valen and Yasha closer.

"The…the phylact...phylactery," she started, her words slow and painful. She squinted, at them, obviously fighting against the pain to form her words.

"Did you find it?" Valen asked with quiet urgency.

She shook her head briefly and winced. "The wall…."

Yasha looked up at the imposing stone wall of the cavern, searching in vain for some sign of the creature's life force.

"Not…there," the dark elf continued painfully.

Yasha bit back a growl of frustration. They had been so sure that the phylactery was hidden in the back of the creature's cave.

"Do you know where it might be then?" she asked, trying hard to keep her voice clear and even. Still, Nathyrra looked up at her in confusion and then obvious frustration.

She shook her head at the paladin, "No…no. You…it's…." Nathyrra's words broke off with a gasp, and she grimaced, her breathing coming fast. Yasha laid a hand on the drow's shoulder, willing what little healing she had left into the drow's burned form. The pain receded from Nathyrra's face, but so did any sign of consciousness. Yasha tried to focus more of the healing power on her companion, but exhaustion numbed her senses. Reluctantly, she pulled her hand back and looked up at Valen.

"Do you have a healing potion left?" she asked.

He looked at her, a grim frown shadowing his features. "Yes, my lady, I do," he said after a moment's hesitation. His tail flicked rhythmically behind him as he slowly fished a vial from somewhere at his belt. Once it was in his hands, though, he paused once more, fingering it thoughtfully.

At Yasha's impatient look, his lips compressed in a thin line. "It is also my last source of healing. You just demonstrated that you no longer have the strength to use your paladin healing. How many potions do you have left?"

Yasha frowned at him for a long time. His ice blue eyes grew even colder as they locked gazes over Nathyrra's still form. She gritted her teeth and bit off the words of her reply. "None, but you're not suggesting we leave her like this and save the potion for ourselves?"

His dour gaze intensified at her tone, and his jaw clenched and unclenched several times before he answered. "What do you think, my lady?" The honorific sounded distinctly dishonorable the way he said it. His tail twitched faster and more erratically.

She bit back her initial reply. With that one potion, they might be able to get Nathyrra barely back in fighting form, but would the shadowdancer's extra blade last long? Would it be worth the trade off? He suggested practicality, but it went utterly against her grain.

Something must have changed in her posture, because Valen's voice had softened somewhat when he continued. "You stabilized her with the last of the healing you had, Yasha. She is a skilled fighter, but her best chance for survival at this point is our survival."

Yasha flinched from his words, and struggled to find some way to deny them. She sought within herself for some final reserve of strength to channel more of Torm's power into healing, but could not find it. She floundered for some argument against his words, for it grated on her to admit he was right. They were in a terrible and desperate situation. Nathyrra's blades were quick and deadly against smaller, living opponents, but Valen's mighty weapon and Duty were both more effective against the dracolich's magically animated bodies, and having her up and in the fray meant that it was more likely that she would be injured again, and this time be pushed through death's door entirely. She gritted her teeth as Valen moved to gingerly pick up the drow's limp form. He frowned down at her when she hesitated to follow. Snarling to herself, she pushed up and stood, then sullenly paced beside him as they rushed back to the place where Deekin still lay.

Bones rattled in the darkness, and Duty flared brighter even as Valen lay their drow companion back down. Though it had disappeared into the darkness, Vix'thra's evil hung heavily in the air and its dark power still prickled along Yasha's skin. It had fled, perhaps, but to another body, where it was quickly orienting itself. They had but one bottle of healing between them, and two of their companions were down and defenseless.

"How many fully grown dragon skeletons can one creature collect anyway?" she grumbled.

Valen returned to her side, grunting in ironic amusement. The walked away from their fallen companions, leaving enough room, hopefully, that no fallout from the dracolich's spells would catch them. After the creature's last performance, however, Yasha was left to wonder if it would not target them anyway.

"Oh, I do so hope I won't be relegated to dragon horde," Enserric commented from behind her head. "I've had quite enough of the company of the undead for quite some time."

"Yes, Enserric, that would be quite a tragedy," Yasha replied dryly. She looked back at her still companions, and at the grimly braced tiefling at her side. She'd danced on death's door before, after all, but for the first time she seriously considered the possibility that she and her companions would become permanent and grim markers of death in Vix'thra's lair.

Or worse, she would survive the encounter in the same way she had survived her last fight with a dragon, while those around her died. She shook her head against the tears that dread stung her eyes with. This was no time to cry. She took a short shuddering breath, and found she could no longer bear to look at those she had, apparently, led to their deaths. Some great hope she was.

"I'm sorry."

Valen moved slightly in the corner of her eye. Surprise? Disbelief?

"For what?" he replied.

"The Seer's goal here was already met when we destroyed the bone golem creator and freed the angel," she explained. She had to explain, while she still could. She thought about the poor people up in the village, and the fearful looks in their eye; the lack of hope in a small girl's soul. "I had to come down here, to try to free the people above from Vix'thra once and for all, but I should not have dragged all of you down with me."

Though she tried to say the words quietly, the silence after she spoke was deafening. Yasha kept her eyes firmly ahead, scanning the darkness for the mighty dracolich's return, and pushed away the desire to see on Valen's face how her apology was accepted.

"I think you'd find," he began slowly, "that dragging me anywhere I do not wish to go would be much more of a challenge than you suggest."

She risked a glance back at him, but he had mimicked her stance, and looked intently into the shadowed cavern instead of at her. She considered for a moment, then turned back to watch for their foe. She nipped on her lip for a bit, while she considered her next words.

"What would you say, " she asked finally, "if I asked you to take the others and flee while I held him off?"

"So you could die a glorious death here?" he asked in surprised disbelief, growling glorious like it was some form of profanity.

"If only," she replied grimly. A clean death would probably be preferable to what she suspected would actually happen. At least she felt fairly confident of her soul's reprieve if she gave her life in a battle with the evil dragon. If what she suspected would happen occurred instead, she held no such confidence. "Don't worry about me," she continued in a slightly louder voice. "Would you do it?"

"If you were to ask," he replied after a moment, "I would be forced to remind you that with no healing supplies and both of them unable to defend themselves, it is very unlikely that we would survive the trip back through the temple above, let alone through the Underdark back to the Seer's encampment." He paused, apparently to let that truth sink in. "Besides, I'm fairly certain the Seer would be unhappy with me were I to return without her prophesied savior."

She glanced at him once more, and caught a wry returning glance. He smiled briefly at his own dark humor as he continued. "But I'm certain you would not ask me to do such a thing, my lady."

"Besides, if you followed THAT plan," Enserric grumbled, "I would still end up buried in a horde of treasure for the next millennia, so it is definitely out of the question."

Yasha snorted, and shook her head. She couldn't quell a pleased smile, despite their desperate situation. "Then I suppose our only choice is to face Vix'thra down and defeat him once and for all."

Enserric harrumphed, grumbling that if that were her intent she'd best use the superior sword. Valen nodded at her grimly, and shifted his stance to hold his huge weapon at the ready. Yasha checked the straps that held her shield and then lifted Duty in preparation. This would be their final engagement with Vix'thra, one way or the other.


	23. Chapter 22

A lightning bolt thundered out of the darkness, its hungry branches striking at both Valen and Yasha as it roared past. Yasha was ready however, and dove away at the first tell tale prickly of the oncoming electricity. Still, blue fire played along her skin, followed by a blast of pain and the smell of ozone. She had just enough time to verify that Valen had missed the worst of it as well, before turning to face the creature that plowed through the darkness, charging after its lightning bolt into the fray. She struggled back to her feet, body aching, and prepared to face the next incarnation of the horrid beast.

Once more, Vix'thra had taken the chance to prepare defensive spells before entering the fray with them. Duty rang powerfully as it slid through the magical outer protections and sliced into the creature's ankle. The sword reverberated in her hands as it met with the stony shell, and cracks appeared that spread the full length of the creature's leg, but the spell persisted, and her attack earned her a powerful blow from the creature that sent her sprawling. She used the momentum to push herself back to her feet, and backed away from the creature enough to avoid its second follow up blow.

Powerful claws raked against the ground, gouging the stone floor and causing Yasha to skitter back once again to avoid them. She retreated steadily as show avoided a flurry of blows, from one side and then the other. She avoided the claws, but was also unable to get in a strike in response.

Of course, she hardly needed to, with Valen pounding on the creature's flank. His weapon didn't have the ability to simply dispel the protective magics. He just took the longer but more direct route to getting rid of it – he pounded the rocky surface of the creature's spell until the rocky covering was little more than a vast array of enchanted fractures, and followed through with another blow so hard that a shin bone shattered.

Vix'thra turned with a speed that belied his size. Valen jumped back from the great snapping jaws, only to be smacked in the back by its sinewy tail whipping in the other direction. Quicker than it took for Yasha to charge forward, the creature had snapped its head forward again, catching Valen while he was still off balance. Horror swept through Yasha and she staggered to a numb stop as she saw the tiefling disappear into the creature's maw. It snarled once in her direction, and chuckled triumphantly. Tossing its head back, it launched the tiefling into the air. Valen twisted, attempting to control his fall, which meant that instead of biting into the tiefling's stomach, the great creature caught only his legs as he came back down.

Valen's cry sparked Yasha back into action. She lowered her head, puller her shield close and Duty up, and charged. The dragon had reared up so that only its hind legs were within her reach, so she dashed under the creature's rib cage, and leapt up to onto one of the dracolich's back claws. Duty bit deeply into the huge shin bone opposite the one Valen had destroyed. Threads of divine fire roared up its leg, spreading over its hip and biting deeply into the dark magic. The mighty thing staggered, falling to all fours to keep from falling. It twisted to peer underneath it body at her, snarling. Valen hung upside down within the creatures jaws, his right leg wedged painfully between to saber-like teeth. He growled back at the creature, braced himself briefly with his other foot, and brought his weapon up to impact loudly against the roof of the dragon's mouth. Its jaws opened wide as it roared in pain, and Yasha knew that in a moment it would snap its jaws closed once more on the prone tiefling. The paladin did the only thing she could do.

She dashed forward into the mighty maw.

Duty skittered across the uneven roof of the dragon's mouth, finally catching on a crack made by Valen's attack. Yasha had moments to braced herself as best as she could as the jaws began to close on them both. The head jerked in surprise and pain as the blade sunk deeply into the bone and enchantment of the creature's skull. Valen was finally thrown free, but the sudden motion made Yasha lose her footing on the uneven jaw. She fell to her knees, calling on every bit of magic left in her enchanted gauntlets for the strength to keep Duty's hilt in her grasp. With a stomach dropping rush, Vix'thra pulled his head back around and up. An outraged roar exploded from the enchantment around her. Letting loose of her shield to brace Duty with both hands, Yasha closed her eyes against the stomach churning motion as the whole head tossed back and forth. With a sudden lurch, Duty moved once more. Magic and bone pulled away from the blade as it sunk deeper. The teeth around her snapped closed violently even as Duty burned its way through the enchanted bone and into its skull.

If it had been a living creature, the blow would have been a death knell. Of course, the dracolich had no soft tissue in its skull to harm. All around her the undead dragon shudder, and a howl of pain thundered in her ears. It tossed back its head once more, opening its jaws wide. Yasha hung suspended a moment from Duty before the blade slipped out. Thinking only to keep the jaws from closing once more and crushing her, she lurched forward and hacked at the hinge where the upper and lower jaws met.

Her strike was too true. Its lower jaw gave way beneath her feet as the holding magics melted under Duty's fierce blaze. Momentum took her onto the creatures bone neck, and Yasha scrambled for purchase on the spine of the flailing dragon as it bellowed in anger and pain once more. Distantly, she heard her abandoned shield bounce on the floor below, even as she managed to hook one hand on a spiny vertebra. The dragon twisted and writhed beneath her, but she managed to keep a grip on it and Duty while she wrapped her legs around the bone.

For an exhilarating moment, she rode on the back of the powerful creature as it bucked and twisted in pain and frustration. It stopped then, and twisted its head to glare at her in hellish red hatred. Despite the loosely dangling lower jaw, Yasha had no doubt of the creature's intent and ability to kill her even now. With a desperate prayer to Torm, she lifted Duty again, and brought it down with all of her strength against the spine beneath her.

Duty flared brightly as it sunk into the creature once more. Power as she'd rarely felt before thundered through her, using her as a conduit between Torm's power and the blade she gripped in her hands. Her vision dimmed, her exhausted spirit unable to do anything but try not to lose herself in the flood of energy. The power, however, had a will of its own, and needed no guidance from her. She finally faltered, unable to hold onto the raw divinity. In the silence and cold that filled her at its lapse, she felt nothing of her body, and had a moment to wonder if it had been consumed in the holy fire. She felt her own breath, and then a heartbeat. Then she was slipping, and for a moment she hung once more, blindly suspended only by Duty's grip on the dracolich. Then even the holy sword's bite tore free, and Yasha fell heavily to the stone floor below. Her head was still ringing from the fall when something huge struck across her ribs. Pain pounding through her side, she tried to roll free through the darkness. It sounded as if the cavern were collapsing around her for a moment, and then there was silence once more.

Sharp pain stabbed through Yasha's side as she shifted under the thing that held her down. She struggled for a moment then was able to find enough traction on the floor to squirm painfully from underneath it. She blinked in disbelief for several moments as her eye sight blurrily returned. She had been trapped under the bones of Vix'thra. The thing had collapsed on top of her.

Her sigh of relief was short lived. Wisps of energy seeped up from the bones as Vix'thra's spirit freed itself from its ruined body again. Its eyes glared at her as its smoky form flowed into being. Slowly and painfully, Yasha brought the flickering fire of Duty's blade up to point at the creature.

"You," she said, though her lips still felt numb, "stay dead."

It lifted a ghostly lip in a silent snarl. Yasha held her breath as its form coalesced, but instead of sprouting transparent wings, threads of the creature pulled back from it. Slowly, as if driven by some silent wind, it flowed away from her until only its glowing eyes remained. And then, even those winked out. She watched the darkening bones for a long time, wondering what to make of this new change of events, before a grunt and a groan from Valen pulled her back to more immediate concerns. Holding her aching side with one hand and still gripping duty's hilt with the other, she limped towards where the tiefling lay. Blood covered the emerald armor on his right leg and the beginnings of dark bruises scattered across his cheek and jaw. He held the final healing potion in his hand, but paused when he saw her limping towards him.

Gently lowering herself beside him, she examined his wound. His thigh right above the knee had been sliced open on both sides, for the sharp teeth of the ancient dracolich had bypassed his armor completely. Shaking her head, she waved away the offer of the healing potion. "You are much more injured than I," she said slowly. "We'll be able to go nowhere until that leg is healed up."

He scowled briefly, acting as if he would argue, then nodded and drained the vial in several quick gulps. She watched him, concerned, as he tossed the vial aside and settled back. It seemed to her that the bleeding had died down, but the potion was not so powerful that it knitted the muscle back to bone and closed the skin.

"Is it dead?" Valen asked, his voice low and gravelly with pain.

Yasha lifted her eyes from Valen's wound, and stared out into the darkness. The dark magic no longer closed in on her like a stinking miasma, but she could still feel the evil pulse of the undead creature in the distance. It was faded, though, different from before when it had fled from body to body. She looked back at Valen. "I think we may be safe for the moment."

She frowned at his wound and back up at his face. His normally pale skin was ashen. It would take more than one simple healing vial to aid him. She could still feel Torm's power, distant and soothing, but did not have the strength of spirit to tap it to heal Valen. Perhaps if she had some time to rest, she could touch it again. Until then….

"Can you walk?" she asked quietly. "I don't want to leave the others alone in this evil place, but neither do I want to abandon you to bring them here."

He winced, looking down at his leg doubtfully. "I will try," he finally replied.

After some maneuvering, they were both able to stand. Yasha did her best to ignore the sharp pain in her ribs as she supported Valen's right side. Valen's breathing hitched with every step as they hobbled across the uneven floor, but they made slow and steady progress towards the distant corner where their comrades lay.

"Look at you two," Enserric snickered. "Hail the conquering heroes as they victoriously hobble back across the field of battle!"

Yasha opened her mouth to reply, but Valen's growl interrupted her. "Shut up, Enserric."

She laughed weakly at the sword's insulted sniff, but cut it off with a gasp as the movement caused her side to erupt in pain again. "Well, I don't believe we'd be striking fear into the hearts of evil at the moment."

Valen grunted but said nothing more. She helped him settle down beside Deekin and Nathyrra, then leaned weakly against one elbow. Vix'thra's necromantic life force pulsed faintly against her like a sullen beacon, causing the hair on her arms to rise. The powerful creature was weakened, but there was no telling what kinds of resources he had left. Did he have another body prepared? Could he summon more vampires or bone golems from the temple around them? In their current state, they would be lucky to fight off even the slowest and dimwitted of zombies.

"Yasha," Valen said, speaking slowly and painfully, "we cannot stay here. It is…too dangerous."

Valen's breathing was slowing, and he seemed unable to keep his eyes open. It was obvious that exhaustion and pain tugged at him, despite his warning that they should move. Yasha stayed silent as she considered them all.

"It will be fine, Valen." His eyes flickered open, and he looked at her doubtfully. "Rest. I will…I will make sure you are all safe for the moment." She smiled weakly at his doubting frown. "Trust me."

He shook his head weakly, but his eyelids fluttered closed once more. Yasha's smile melted, and she carefully lay Duty down to dig into her backpack. She first pulled out a small round gem from her collection of valuables. Its multicolored surface flickered in Duty's dimming light. A rogue gem, it was called, famous for its ability to fuel enchantments that opened magical doorways, but woefully rare and expensive. She closed her fingers around the gem and sighed heavily. From a side pocket of her backpack, she pulled out a small object bound in oil cloth and wrapped in a fine mithril chain and Torm's Hand in silver. She weighed it and the small gem in her hand. This was another option to staying within the dracolich's power base, of course, but she was loathed to choose it. What cost would it be to use it? She winced and frowned at her unconscious companions. What cost would it be not to?

She unwrapped the relic slowly and stared down at it. It was barely larger than her palm, shaped like a miniature door. Carved into its stony side was a twisted face, its mouth open in anger or pain. The most powerful clerics in Waterdeep had cast curse dispelling magics on it, yet it reappeared on her person no matter how many times she tried to leave it behind. She had only used it once, but that time was most certainly none of her choosing. She felt no overt evil when she looked at it, just as in the many times she had examined it before, but it still made her flesh crawl. As well it should, for it was a doorway from death, and a doorway from death could be a doorway to it as well.

Holding her side, she sighed painfully once more at her friends. Her doubts might keep her from willingly using it, but were those doubts powerful enough to risk certain death for those that traveled with her? Shaking her head, she pushed herself to her feet. She closed her eyes for a moment, then fit the gem into the open mouth of the relic, and held it up before her.

"Reaper," she said as forcefully as she could. "I bid you open your door."

The gem flashed with brilliant color, and a beam of light shot out from the relic. Then it twisted in a gut wrenching way, and turned in some strange way to widen. The beam of light became a curtain and then deepened into a doorway. Around her, the cavern remained the same, but through the veil of light she caught sight of the barren and wrenchingly unwelcome sight of a plain room to which the doorway led. She shrugged off old memories as best as she could, however, to focus purely on gathering her companions and their belongings. One by one, she struggled to drag their limp bodies as carefully as she could through the glittering doorway. Deekin and Nathyrra moved little at all when she carried them through, which caused her concern. Valen came to consciousness briefly as she struggled to drag him through, her many minor injuries screaming to life, but his eyes were unfocused and quickly closed once more as she laid him down on the smoother stone floor through the doorway. She felt hopelessly open to attack during the whole process, but her pain slowed her to a frustrating crawl. At last, however, she grabbed up the last of their packs, and entered the doorway one last time. On the other side, she knew, the door of light had snapped shut, leaving them gone as if they had never existed.

The walls in the unornamented room were lined with doors. To her eye, they all looked the same and very plain indeed, but she suspected they were far from ordinary. They entered through one such door, the shimmering light that encased it the only mark upon it to let her know it led out. She worked slowly to try to make her companions as comfortable as possible. She removed Valen's breastplate as gently as she could manage, and made makeshift pillows for all from the packs and blankets. Finally satisfied with the arrangements, she walked away from them and towards the raised dais in the center of the otherwise featureless room.

She grimly approached the black clad figure that stood there. It had stood there unmoving during the whole process of her dragging her companions in and comforting them.

_Just like it had stood by, unmoved, when Yasha had lain here day after day on the painful edge of a death._

Yasha shook off the memory. More important to her was the tightly bound evil she felt as she approached the thing that called itself only The Reaper. She eyed it distastefully as she approached, though whatever expression it might have had was hidden by its shadowed hood. Red, demonic wings sprouted from its back, but she could tell nothing else about its appearance, for it clothed itself head to foot in an all concealing black robe.

Or perhaps the robe was its appearance. It was hard to tell with creatures from the lower planes.

"Reaper," she greeted it tersely.

It bowed slightly, and replied in a cavernous voice. "Sojourner."

"I need to know. Are my companions safe here?"

It was still for a moment, then bowed its head once more. "As safe as you are," it answered finally. That was hardly a comfort.

"Let me ask a different way then," she said, pain and exhaustion fraying her temper. "Can anything hostile come in to reach them while they are here?"

"Not unless you open the door for them," it replied tonelessly.

Yasha considered this answer for a moment. Did it mean literally or figuratively? Had she already opened the door by coming here at all? She would have believed that the thing took joy from giving her evasive answers if it wasn't for the fact that it apparently never felt any joy at all. "You told me I cannot die while I'm here," she said carefully, wincing from the memory. "What of them?"

"Their spirits are free to go if their bodies fail," it replied evenly.

She considered that a blessing, though she wasn't sure what her companions would think the same. "We can leave through the doorway to the place where we just left, correct?" she asked, turning back to the Reaper.

"Yes, Sojourner, as I explained before. If you have payment, you may come and go as you please," it answered evenly.

"If I leave you payment, can they leave even if I'm not here?"

It stood very still for a moment. "What do you mean?" it asked, a faint note of curiosity in its voice.

Holding her side, Yasha stepped up the final few stairs to stand on the dais even with the creature. "If I were to leave and be unable to return, would they be able to open the door and leave this place without me?" She paused, another thought occurring to her. "Or does this place even exist when I'm not here?"

"It does exist, even if you are not here. Throughout the centuries it exists. Always."

Yasha raised her eyebrows in surprise as bitterness crept into the implacable creature's voice. "I see." That was a new reaction, and very interesting. Still, she had bigger fish to fry at the moment. "What of my other question? If I leave you payment, can they leave without me?"

"I believe so, Sojourner."

"You BELIEVE so?" she replied suspiciously.

"It has never before been done," it responded, its voice once again emotionless. "But I see no reason why it cannot be done."

She frowned at it. They could wait until everyone had recovered. Even without potions and items to heal them, it would take her only a little while to rest enough to call on Torm's healing once again. Deekin also had some minor healing magics in his repertoire. It may take days, or even a week or two to regain their strength. In the time, what would happen with Vix'thra? He could escape, and their chance to destroy him utterly would be gone. Or perhaps he might gather what was left of his followers, and be prepared for them when they reappeared in his lair.

But could she trust her companions to be alone and unguarded with a creature such as this in their midst? It seemed bound to service of the one that held the relic, but would that be a guarantee of safety to her companions?

Rubbing the back of her neck, Yasha shuffled back to her backpack. She dug into it and pulled out two more of the rogue stones. Gripping them tightly in her fist, she bowed her head.

"Give me some sign, Torm. What should I do?" she whispered desperately. She listened intently, in body and mind, for as long as she could. Perhaps there was no sign, or perhaps her spirit was too tired to see it. Regardless, she was left to sit in silence and make up her own mind.

Her companions were as safe as she could make them. It was also her duty to destroy Vix'thra once and for all, if it was at all in her power to do so. Pulling Enserric from the sheath on her back, she laid the bare blade down beside Valen.

"Yell if you see anything amiss. Try to wake them."

The sword was silent for a moment. "I was kidding about the dragon horde thing, you know."

She patted the blade. "I know. Keep watch well."

She bowed her head, gave one last, heart felt plea for the safety of her friends, then she stood and approached the Reaper once more. She held the two stones before it.

"One for my passage out now. Another for their passage out when they request it." It bowed in acknowledgement and reached out a cloaked arm. She handed the rogue stones over, repressing a shiver when she felt bony claws scraped the stones from her palm. She turned back and stepped down from the dais, and the door they had come through opened when she approached. With one final look at her companions, she stepped through it, and back into Vix'thra's lair.


End file.
